


Life in Miniature

by astronomicalz



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Bug Tank AU, I got super inspired, bug shenanigans galore, no beta we die like fools
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-01-05 19:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronomicalz/pseuds/astronomicalz
Summary: When a massive earthquake shakes Hallownest at the least opportune time, not even the Pale King could expect what happens next.Denise Powell gets more than she bargained for when she receives a shipment of very unusual bugs.Things are about to get interesting.





	1. Prologue

The Pale King stood tall and regal outside the Black Egg Temple, watching his Pure Vessel make its way inside until the Void consumed its form. The Dreamers stood just behind him, waiting for his signal, and the Crossroads were almost entirely empty by his own decree. On the periphery of his vision, he knew that several others were watching.

Herrah had brought Hornet almost all the way to the Temple before handing the child off to the Midwife and a few attendant weavers. Lurien had not brought any of his servants, but Monomon had allowed one of her students to accompany her. His Great Knights were stationed in a perimeter to keep out curious common bugs. His dear Root, the White Lady, stood a distance away, staying only to watch and lend some of her strength before leaving for her Gardens. The Mantis Lords had likely caught wind of an important event and came with some tribe members to make sure it posed no threat to their village. Queen Vespa and a few attendants watched from further away for roughly the same purpose. A few bolder bugs that the Pale King did not know gathered at the very edges of his awareness in anticipation of some unknown occasion.

The Pale King cast aside all distractions as his Pure Vessel made it to the center, a thrum in the wards and the waiting chains making its position known. This carefully constructed ritual had to be done swiftly and precisely; any faults and it would likely spell disaster for Hallownest as a whole. The Mantises and the Bees were right to be wary, but the spell’s protections would not allow them to interfere.

“I would like to once again extend my deepest gratitude for your service,” the Pale King said lowly to the three behind him. “I wish the circumstances for standing together with me were different. May you Dream in peace.”

There was no reply. All other thanks had been spent, last conversations had.

“It is time,” he intoned.

The Wyrm released some of his power to spark the beginning of the spell. His wings fanned out behind him, illuminated in a faint ethereal glow, as lines of light began to weave into the air around the Temple. The formless strands snapped to the anchors within the Temple’s outer shell, extending outwards in intricate patterns. In abstract forms, a familiar mask and wings began to appear, reflecting the nature of the woven spell.

He pulsed Soul into the chains within the Temple’s yolk, activating the complex trap woven with Soul and Dream that he had set before the Void became too thick for him to withstand comfortably. A deep rattling echoed from within the depths, and the Pale King knew that this would signal the Hollow Knight to begin to Focus.

An orange haze began to swirl in the air, trying to grasp the lines of the spell before being drawn into the deep black of the Temple.

The Radiance had arrived.

“Dreamers. The Seal.”

The three Dreamers each lifted an appendage towards the Temple, and the lines of the spell encompassed them as well, faint forms of their masks appearing.

Monomon spoke first in her lilting, foreign voice.

“For diversity. For variance. For evolution. I become bond upon the Vessel.”

There was a sound coming from within the Temple.

Then Lurien, stern yet soft.

“For this city and for King beloved, I become bond upon the Vessel.”

The sound grew louder.

Finally, Herrah, rough and low.

“For my daughter and—”

Suddenly, the ground shook violently, tossing everyone off their feet and sending deep cracks into the rock around them. The Pale King felt the spell strain as their concentration shattered. His wings shook as he struggled to stand back up, his magic flaring to keep the spell from backfiring. He felt more than heard a large rock shatter above his head, and he spared the briefest glance to acknowledge Ogrim for saving him.

He could tell through the strings of the Soul-embued weave that Monomon and Lurien were still awake and connected, but Herrah’s connection was wavering alarmingly, several of the spell lines were snapped, and the Temple had cracks to match the rocks above. A scream was echoing within.

If the Seal failed, the Hollow Knight would fail with it.

The ground shook again.

The ritual had to be stopped.

“Dreamers!” he called, voice shaking minutely. “Release yourselves from the spell! I will guide your disconnection, but we must be swift!”

Monomon and Lurien released their tethers with a nudge from the Pale King’s power, collapsing from the strain into the arms of Isma and Dryya, but Herrah still hung on.

The Pale King turned to the Beast, finding her struggling to detach herself from the unraveling spell, which had wrapped itself around her in the confusion. It was a terrible irony, getting caught in the web of spells like her kind’s prey, but the thought was ripped apart as soon as it crossed his mind. He took a step closer and quickly poured more Soul into the lines, momentarily expanding it enough for Herrah to free herself and release her hold.

The Wyrm felt Root approach and lend him strength as he took on the weight of the spell. He unwound the spell from the Temple as quickly as he dared, the orange haze growing brighter as the spell fractured more. The ground shook again, and Root steadied him as he _pulled_ the last of the binding spell from the Black Egg’s surface.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing that was pulled out.

In a rush of blinding golden light, every bug around the Temple was knocked off their feet as a large white blur burst out with a roar, disappearing into the tunnels above just as quickly as it had appeared. In its wake, the Pure Vessel limped out from the entrance, dragging its nail behind it, its armor cracked and cloak shredded. Infection leaked from its eyes and it collapsed as soon as it crossed the threshold.

The Pale King immediately rushed to his creation’s side, sighing in relief as he found it to to be whole and not possessed, the Infection slowly leaking out and disappearing. With sinking dread, he realized what that bright white blur must have been, but he couldn’t spare it another thought as the caverns shook once again.

The Pale King turned his head to see his subjects trying to steady themselves, the Mantises and the Bees he had felt now plainly among them and held back by his Great Knights, alerted by the swelling of power and the shaking walls. Herrah had her child within her grasp, protecting her from falling rocks, while Monomon did the same with her student, and Hegemol with Lurien. Root had come to crouch beside him, speaking frantically, but the Pale King could not hear her over the intense rumbling and a frightening realization.

This was no ordinary earthquake. Something large, much larger than he himself had been, was approaching. He had to protect his kingdom.

With the last of his reserves, the Wyrm blanketed Hallownest in a protective glamour before losing consciousness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I recently got into Hollow Knight and was inspired by rukafais and take-a-bug on Tumblr, and WD_Scribbles’ Tanked, with their Bug Tank AU. I started writing a few ideas for it, which accidentally turned into a full fic outline, so here I am. If you see something familiar, it’s likely that I really liked one of the tumblr ideas and put it into the fic.  
> Constructive criticism is very welcomed, and I hope you all enjoy!


	2. New Arrivals

Pet Crawlers was a small store dedicated to selling arthropods of all types, as well as small mammals, reptiles, and some aquatic animals. Most customers came to buy a new companion, though there were those who came to buy accessories, habitats, and feeder insects. There were only two employees besides owner Denise Powell, and as closing time approached, only she remained.

Denise had just finished organizing some of the shelves in her little shop when the bell by the door rung. She hurriedly moved to the front counter to greet potential customers, but relaxed upon seeing two familiar young men standing in the entrance. “Hey there, Rich, Dav— damn, David, what happened to you?”

The man in question, the shorter of the two with messy blonde hair, ducked his head in embarrassment, not managing to hide the various scrapes visible on his arms and face.

The other man, a tall brunet, sighed. “Dave nearly gave me a heart attack by tumbling down a rocky hill on the way to the usual spot.”

“How was I supposed to know that rock was unstable?”

“I have a first aid kit if you need it?” Denise asked worriedly, but David waved her off.

“We had some stuff in the van, I can take care of the rest later.”

“On the bright side, we accidentally stumbled onto a virtual goldmine as a result and came to drop off our find,” said Rich.

Denise raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah!” exclaimed David. “We were taking a different path this time when I, uh, lost my balance and took a little tumble down the hill. I stopped rolling just inside a new entrance to the nearby cave system and when Rich followed me down...”

“...it turned out that he had fallen on top of and disturbed a huge nest of different bugs. I slapped him upside the head for scaring me—”

“How was I supposed to know!”

“—and then we decided to just take advantage. There were a bunch of different kinds too, I didn’t think they would live together so close. We also went to the usual spot and got a few from there. You’re gonna have a field day cataloguing them.”

“We got them in the van if you want to come see before we bring them in.”

Denise’s curiosity was through the roof by that point. “Alright, let me just get the keys really quick—” Before she could move, a white blur came through the still-open door, squeaking angrily as it fluttered around the shop.

Rich sighed. “It got out again, huh.”

“Looks like it.”

Denise watched in bewilderment as the intruder frantically flew a few more circles around the space before landing on top of the cash register. It almost seemed to glare in their direction. “Is… is that a moth? That is the biggest, noisiest moth I’ve ever seen.” She turned back to the boys. “What do you mean ‘got out _again_ ’?”

Rich motioned for Denise to follow them to the van parked right outside. She grabbed the keys carefully from the counter, not wanting to incur the wrath of the moth, and followed the boys out, firmly closing the door behind her.

“Believe it or not,” Rich started as soon as the door was closed, “that thing came flying out of the dirt at us once we started clearing debris from Dave’s fall. We got it in a net when it started flying into our faces, then followed where it came out of to find more insects.”

“It got out of the net at some point so we put it in a container,” David continued, unlatching the back doors. “Must’ve got out again somehow.”

As soon as the doors were open and Denise got a look at their find, she immediately jumped in to examine the containers secured against the walls. “Holy— you found all these in one place!?” she exclaimed in awe.

It was like she had stepped into a bug-themed dream. She could make out some mantises, spiders, bees, and several types of beetles, but she excitedly realized that she couldn’t immediately classify most of them. A challenge! Oh, how she loved them!

“This is amazing! I’m almost sad you removed all of these, I would’ve loved to see how they all coexisted. Did you keep most of the nest intact? Start bringing them to the back room, and _please_ tell me you saved the coordinates of where you fou— wait.” She rushed further into the van and stared confusedly into a water-filled tank and the forms floating within. “Since when does the lake have _jellyfish_?”

David barked out an incredulous laugh as he picked up another container to bring into the shop. “They’re not from the lake! I have no idea how, but there were a bunch of those little things in the mess of tunnels we got the rest from.”

Casting aside her surprise, Denise quickly unhooked the tank and started bringing it into the store. She had no idea what type of creatures these were, looking like jellyfish but living underground, so she wanted to prioritize getting them into a proper habitat just in case.

By the time she had set the water tank down next to the other aquarium tanks in the storage room, Rich and David had already brought the other containers inside and arranged them on the holding shelves within. The moth had relocated to a high shelf in the room and a variety of chittering noises were emanating from the boxes.

She noticed a smaller storage box on top of the desk. Rich followed her gaze and explained, “There were a lot of weird things around the area, so we picked up a few.”

“I’d suggest checking out the tubes first, but be careful handling them.” David added. “There was a big well of the stuff within the tunnels where the jellyfish things were, but it’s acidic.” He tugged a glove off his left hand and showed a discolored patch of skin on his palm.

Denise whistled. “It really wasn’t your day, huh? Does it sting?”

David flushed and pulled his glove back on. “A bit.”

“There’s also a couple of things in there that might be good for habitats,” Rich finished. He brought his watch up and jolted. “Ooh, we better head out, Clumsy over here’s got some work to finish back home.”

David swatted Rich’s arm as they started walking out, laughing. “Once I’m done with that paper, I am going to _wreck_ you at Mario Kart.”

“That’s about as likely as bugs having magic powers,” Rich scoffed.

“Take the usual and some extra from the register for your find!” Denise called, trusting her long-time friends to only take what they were owed. The register dinged and then the bell signaled that they had left.

Denise checked her own watch and, seeing that the store was due to close soon, she locked up the front door and decided to start organizing the new containers. First though…

Denise squinted up at one of the shelves, seeing the fluffy white moth looking down. It almost seemed to glow against the shadows some of the boxes up there cast. She rummaged in one of the mini fridges, pulling out a small dish and a bag of slightly overripe orange slices. She separated a small piece and put it in the dish, which she placed on one of the lower shelves. Maybe putting some food out might allow her to get close enough to examine it.

Denise then walked over to the water tanks as she nibbled on another orange slice, where the jellyfish-like creatures swam. They didn’t seem to be in any distress with their conditions, but Denise resolved to keep a sharp eye on them just in case. One in particular was much larger than the rest and drifted closer to the glass as Denise approached. It shone with a greenish bioluminescence and seemed capable of self-locomotion. It almost seemed to study her in turn just as she was studying it, but that might’ve been her fatigue at a full work day showing.

Denise turned back to the desk and started pulling items out of the box. It was a very strange collection. There were several tiny sharp metal objects, something that resembled a torch or lantern, some large hollowed rocks and shells that would probably be well placed in a habitat, quite a few shiny crystals, some tubes and glass containers of a greenish liquid that bubbled ominously, and plenty more little trinkets and oddities. She didn’t have the equipment to analyze the tubes of liquid here, but maybe she could ask around her university.

Abruptly, she realized that the loud chirping noises from the new tanks had quieted down. She didn’t know when it had happened, but as she glanced into the tanks she found herself being observed by a myriad of tiny eyes. A shiver ran down her spine and she shuddered.

The moth had also quieted, and as Denise turned to the shelf, she found the moth next to the food she had set out. She carefully put aside the remaining orange pieces and slowly approached.

The moth seemed to notice and backed away from the food, but didn’t take flight. Denise very slowly reached out a hand, careful not to cup it over the insect. The moth chittered in warning, but still didn’t move, and after a few moments Denise lowered a finger into the moth’s fluffy coat, stroking gently and avoiding the wings.

To her surprise, the moth almost seemed to _lean_ into the touch. Denise took the opportunity to examine it and make some observations. It was a fairly large moth, with pure white fur and light grayish wings. She was tempted to call it a silkmoth, or maybe one of those poodle moths, but it didn’t fit entirely. It had some strange protrusions on its head framing its antennae, and its wings were strangely patterned. Due to the size, thin antennae, and a few other details, however, Denise was fairly sure that it was a female.

Denise withdrew her finger, leaving the moth to its meal. She cast her attention to the now-silent bug tanks. Rich and David had done a good job of separating the insects by supposed species, but the bugs had to be moved to proper habitats so the containers could be returned and she could check for contaminants before moving them into tanks with their own species. She flitted around the storage room, pulling out extra half-furnished tanks until she found the proper ones, then grabbed some dividers to separate the bugs within each container. She brought the new containers closer to the shelves where the new bugs were, then added a few things from the small box as well as food, water, and more shelter.

Nodding to herself, she mumbled, “Now, who first?”

She stepped closer to each of the containers, mentally cataloguing the species. One had a few mantises, three of which were taller and slightly different than the rest. Denise noticed scratches all around the clear plastic walls and slotted in some opaque plastic dividers. It didn’t look as if the mantises had attacked each other, thankfully, just the container itself, but she wasn’t sure enough of the species to leave them together overnight. She then assembled a small tunnel so they could be transferred to the new habitat without escaping.

The mantises fought her every step of the way and she very nearly got pinched a few times. “C’mon,” she coaxed, despite knowing they had no way of understanding her intentions. “This new habitat is much nicer than that box.” She jiggled the old container a little to encourage the mantises to move, but it took several minutes to get them all in, and even more to make sure there was one per division. After the three taller mantises were placed into the new enclosure, though, the others followed in short order. She finished setting up the habitat, making sure the ventilation was clear and the mesh was secure, before putting it where the old container was.

Disobedient bugs seemed to be the theme of the evening. The spiders were aggressive and it took several tries with a net to separate one of the unknown bugs from the largest spider. It wouldn’t do to have a possibly new species get eaten before she could examine it. The bumblebees were just as aggressive as the spiders at first, but followed their queen into the new specialized container soon enough. It was almost as if the three species had designated leaders, which would be an interesting phenomenon to study.

As Denise worked to separate the other miscellaneous beetles and bugs, she saw that she recognized fewer than she had originally thought. The only ones in the largest container that she recognized were a pillbug and a dung beetle, which she quickly put into their own small enclosures. There was also a strange fungus-like organism, a completely white bug that seemed to have a long body, a large black bug with a white head, and many more species she couldn’t name. They didn’t seem to be attacking or eating each other, so she supposed these species coexisted, but she would separate them overnight all the same just in case. As an experiment, she made a path between the old and new container, gently encouraged the group to move, and waited to see which bug would go first.

At first, nothing happened. They retreated from the new enclosure, but none stood out from the rest as they clicked to each other. Then, the long white bug suddenly unsheathed hidden wings and tried to escape. Denise cursed and quickly moved the mesh around the tunnel to account for the hole she missed, but she would have been too late if it weren’t for the moth.

Said moth swooped out of nowhere, screeching angrily, and redirected the white bug’s flight path into the new enclosure just in time for Denise to cover the hole. It then perched itself on Denise’s shoulder, to the human’s absolute bewilderment. This crazy moth seemed almost _domesticated._  “Thanks?” she said uncertainly, watching as the rest of the bugs followed the long one. There were quite a few, so she had to grab another tank to house the rest. The root-like one and the large black and white bug lagged noticeably behind, so she grabbed a new container for the former and the one with the bug from the spider tank for the latter, which looked similar if not for the red on its carapace and difference in size.

The last container had some bugs that likely came from the usual spot or further away from the discovered nest, if the little label on top that she recognized was any indicator. There was another far smaller black and white bug in there, but it seemed to be of the same species, so she moved it with the other one. There were also a couple of weevils and a few more miscellaneous ones that would take more time to catalogue which she moved into appropriate containers.

Finally, after more than an hour had gone by, all the bugs had been relocated to be examined the next day. Denise slowly raised a hand to the moth, which quickly climbed on so she could return it to the orange slice. She moved to grab a box for the moth, but it began to squeak in displeasure at the movement. Denise wasn’t sure why she hesitated, but she ended up placing the enclosure on the desk with some water and more oranges, leaving it open for the moth to get into on its own.

It was getting late and Denise had to wake up early tomorrow to open up the shop before going to class. Whatever mysteries there were behind these new creatures, they could wait for tomorrow. So, after rechecking the tanks one more time and saying a ritual goodbye to the bugs and animals in her care, she locked the storage room, dealt with the register, updated her logs, checked the alarm, turned off the lights, and locked the store proper before walking to the nearest bus station.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we’ve set the scene! I’m going to try and keep this as realistic as I can in the human aspects, but I’m neither an entomologist nor a shop owner (I’m also not very creative with shop names). Some things will simply require an open mind, but if there are any glaring issues, feel free to comment on it and I will try to address it! The same goes for any questions you may have, provided it does not spoil future events.  
> 
> 
> Also, you may have noticed that I did not outright state all of the bugs that were brought. This is to give a little freedom to you all! If you have an existing character that you would like to see brought in, state in the comments and I might include them. Keep in mind that Rich and David did not get very deep into Hallownest, only about as far as Fog Canyon, the Crossroads, and Crystal Peak. I also plan to have some chapters that return to Hallownest to see what’s been happening there, so keep that in mind as well.  
> 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	3. Planning

As soon as the strange being that had taken them all captive plunged the room into darkness and left, the shelves descended into chaos once more.

The Pale King could not fully hear or see the other trapped bugs through the many glass-like walls, but he could feel the frantic buzzing of the bees as Vespa tried to calm them below and to the right, the Mantis Lords renewing their attack on their prison below and to the left, and the Beast and her spiders doing the same directly below. Ogrim was trying to calm down his Knights from his own separate enclosure to the right. His Pure Vessel, Hornet, and another bug he could not make out were to the left, with Monomon’s assistant beyond them. He knew one of the boxes above contained his Root, but the other two housed unknown bugs. The Teacher floated serenely in a large, softly lit, liquid-filled container with some of her oomas and uomas, a far distance from the shelves upon which the major figures of Hallownest were placed.

The Pale King himself was focused on replenishing his reserves of Soul and stopping his hands from trembling from within his cloak. The recent events, along with the strain of the disastrous spell and the glamour he had cast, had sapped him of all energy and left his mind scattered. His last ditch effort to escape captivity and release his subjects from the outside had also failed and certainly not helped his situation.

The Wyrm had never seen such gigantic creatures before, utterly dwarfing his previous form. A part of him found them very fascinating. Their soft bodies lacked chitinous armor or any sort of natural defense, though their build showed curious similarities to a common bug’s upright stature. They were not higher beings, as they did not bear the markers of strong magic and power, but his own power still skipped across the surface of their minds like stones across a lake. They seemed intelligent, from what he had seen of their behaviors and structures so far, and had a sprawling civilization, yet he had never been aware of their kind. It was a mystery he would have liked to take the time to unravel had they not invaded his kingdom and stolen himself, his family, and his subjects at the worst moment possible.

A tapping on the clear material that surrounded him pulled the Pale King from his musings, turning around to see his faithful Watcher on the other side, who seemed to have mostly calmed down from his earlier hysterics. The King’s dim light highlighted the other bug’s mask and a small area around them both. He nodded his acknowledgement as regally as he could, betraying none of the fatigue he felt. He needed to be strong for his subjects.

“What happens now, my King?” Lurien’s voice, even raised loudly, was difficult to hear through the barrier. Luckily, the Pale King’s Light gave him a very small foothold in the minds of the bugs below him. He could raise his voice as well, but yelling was unbecoming of him.

“Inspect your conditions, ration your food, find shelter,” he said, his voice carrying partly through the connection and into Lurien’s mind. “Tell my Knights to release any lumaflies they may have brought and try to find weaknesses in this material. For now, we lie in wait and plan for an opportunity to escape.”

The Pale King would have continued, had a large figure not landed directly in front of him on the other side of his clear prison, lighting the area more thoroughly than his own pale light had been.

Despite the thickness of the barrier, the Radiance’s words had no trouble reaching his own mind, half speaking through Dream. “What a terrible irony, Wyrm. You find yourself trapped just as you would have trapped me within the Empty One.”

His Knights drew their weapons around him, despite their separation, but he waved them off. He looked up with narrowed eyes at the great moth, drawing himself taller. In being pulled into physicality by the botched spell, she now looked more like her creations, complete with antennae and forelimbs, yet only slightly smaller than she appeared in dreams. She stood tall, wings flared and a halo of light behind her crown as she looked down upon him.

“I see you find amusement in trying to doom us all,” the Pale King said with scorn. “Had you not intervened—”

“What would you have done, Pale One?” the Radiance interrupted with a scowl in her glowing eyes. “Fly off for the Tall Being to hunt you down? Challenge it and almost certainly be destroyed? Release your fellows and lead them into unknown dangers? Your attempt to Seal me away left you weak, Wyrm, you would not have succeeded. Do you think yourself the only one able to save them all?”

“And what do you intend to accomplish?” the Pale King spat, his normally stoic demeanor crumbling under the weight of his recent failures. “You have no advantage over me besides not being encased. You are also weak from being near-forgotten, I can feel it plainly.”

The Radiance took one step forward in rage at the Pale Wyrm’s challenging words, but stopped herself with great effort from going further; it would do nothing but further agitate the warriors behind him. Her anger still bubbled close to the surface, though time and physical existence had already begun to wear away its constancy.

When the Radiance had inadvertently been pulled from the Dream Realm, she had still been consumed by hatred and fury, attacking blindly when she found the space to spread her wings. Her sudden capture snapped her out of it, turning to shock in seeing gargantuan creatures pull a still Wyrm from the earth.

At first, the Radiance had felt a vindictive pleasure; with the Pale King gone, she would be able to return and gather followers once again without trouble. Even weak as she was, from struggling against death for so long, a summoned blade cut easily through the netting that confined her. When she tried to fly away and bide her time, however, she was prevented by another kind of trap. Despite the failure of the Sealing Ritual, the Radiance had still been tethered to the Empty One, the chains having already been put into motion, so she found herself unable to stay in Hallownest after the Pale King had been taken away.

Instead, while the Wyrm had been slumbering in exhaustion, the Radiance had followed the kidnapped bugs and the Tall Beings that had taken them, observing the unknown creatures and slipping through their attempts to contain her. Though she had initially been irritated, they had soon piqued her curiosity and interest. Their minds were vast, akin to Higher Beings, and largely resisted her probing. They spoke in a foreign tongue, but without access to the meaning in their words, she could not translate it.

Despite this, however, she could tell by lightly skimming their surface thoughts that they did not mean direct harm. They projected excitement, especially the smaller one whose care they had been placed into, but it was borne out of simple curiosity, not malice. The smaller one moved with gentleness unexpected for its size, and even when the Radiance placed herself in a position where she could be harmed— though certainly prepared to retaliate if necessary— the Tall Being simply stroked her and observed. A light suggestion of her magic had also led the Being to leave her free instead of forcing her into a container, which would not have affected such a vast mind unless it had already thought of the idea.

The Radiance had seen the long distance that separated these bugs from their homes; her Dreamgate would be much too unreliable, even if she had the strength for such a journey. In the heart of unknown territory and surrounded by untold dangers, the only way to return was to cross this language barrier and enlist the help of the Tall Beings.

It was not something she could do alone, however. No matter how much she despised the Wyrm, especially with this latest affront, his help would be invaluable. These bugs still rallied under his crest, and the Root stayed close to his side. She would be needed, if the Radiance had judged her Focus correctly.

“I plan to stay close to the Tall Being that we were delivered to,” the Radiance began. “I was not included in that glamour of yours, my traits still shine through, yet it does not seem to mind my company or freedom. I can intervene in the case of any undesirable actions.

“Root,” the Radiance called, including the White Lady in their conversation with a small strain of power, “part of your skill lies with language, if I am not mistaken.”

There was a faint affirmative, then a solid “You are correct” as the White Lady strengthened the connection from her end.

“If I send you my memories of the Tall Beings’ speech and you continue to listen as they talk, you may have a hope of translating their language. Are you willing?”

“I am,” came the answer after a small pause. “Their Voices are loud and powerful; whether that will make it easier or more difficult is yet to be seen.”

The Radiance nodded, then turned her attention back to the Pale King. “Loathe as I am to admit,” she continued, reluctance plain in her tone, “your magic is broader than mine, if less deep. Your Light is already tethered in their minds, and you share a connection with Root. You would be most able to share that knowledge among them all.

“After that, we negotiate for our freedom.”

The Pale King scoffed. “And what makes you think these ‘Tall Beings’ would be willing to listen? We are small and insignificant beside them. Should our intelligence prove any threat, what would stop them from striking us down? You are naive.”

“Then you are prideful!” the Radiance thundered, her wings and Light flaring and forcing the bugs behind the Wyrm to take a step back instinctively. “If we show no intelligence at all and escape, there is nothing to prevent—”

“These walls may be thick, but I know plans are being made between you higher beings. Would it be too much to ask that us less godly folk be included? Hallownest’s King is not the only ruler here,” a voice interrupted loudly.

The Radiance went to hover further from the shelves, noting that the other contained bugs were watching her with rapt attention. The audible part of their conversation and her Light must have alerted them. Hive Queen Vespa looked slightly annoyed and Deepnest Queen Herrah was impassive, but the Mantis Lords were seething. The Radiance ignored the latter.

“We were indeed making plans, Hive Queen Vespa,” said the Radiance, having lightly skimmed the bee’s mind for information. Vespa didn’t seem surprised that the moth knew her name.

The Radiance supposed it would be beneficial for everyone to be in on the loop, though the clear cages that held them all would make things difficult. She could probably pull everyone into a Dream, but she doubted any of these bugs would agree to it. In recent times, Dreams of her had been accompanied by madness, and the Radiance wasn’t keen on bringing so many agitated warriors into her domain, especially if they were unwilling.

All the same, she raised her voice to reach everyone through the ventilation holes in their tanks, “If we wish to speak comfortably to each other, I’m afraid these containers disallow it. If you would permit me—”

“If you would permit _me_ ,” the White Lady interrupted, speaking loudly from her container. The Radiance’s light flared again slightly in faint irritation, but the caged Queen didn’t seem to mind. “I can amplify all of your Voices to reach the rest. Nothing else will be affected. Do you all accept?” Given that most of the bugs present had very little issue with Root compared to the Radiance, acceptance was given easily only after a few moments of thought. “Very well.”

With that, a pale light began to glow from the tips of her branches. The Pale King felt her power use his by proxy through the Kingsoul, though no one else felt any change.

“There,” said the White Lady, and nearly everyone jumped at hearing her voice as near as if she were standing beside them. “We may speak without barriers. Radiance, if you would reiterate your plan so we may deliberate upon it?”

 

* * *

 

Pure had been internally panicking for a while now, and the fact that they _were_ panicking only exacerbated things.

They hadn’t been able to protect Father or Mother or anyone else from being captured by the giant creatures because they had been so heavily injured when the Radiance escaped. They had been separated because they were too slow and recovering from said injuries, and even after Focusing a few times their body still ached. They had failed to contain the Radiance, and now the Old Light was right in front of everyone.

The Ritual has failed. The Seal had failed. _They_ had failed in their one and only purpose.

There was no reason for them to still be alive.

And that only made the waiting game worse.

Pure hadn’t forgotten. They knew what had happened to their siblings in the Abyss, seen their cracked shells and broken bodies, been knocked down to the bottom by them a few times. They had all _failed_ , and then they had died.

So Pure stood in a neutral pose, using their nail to keep their knees from buckling through will they couldn’t have, trying to keep the mind they shouldn’t have clear, and grateful they wouldn’t have to worry about any winces of pain escaping through a voice they didn’t have.

_Do not think…_

_Do not speak…_

_Do not hope…_

_Do not…_

Waiting for orders. Waiting for the end. They couldn’t— _shouldn’t_ — hope for anything else.

They were aware of their surroundings, that things were happening around them, plans being made, but it was of no consequence. An empty vessel had no place in such dealings. Hornet kept tapping at the thin barrier between them, but to acknowledge it could be seen as a weakness. There was no room for curiosity aimed at her, the unknown bug behind them, or even the beings that had taken them in the midst of the panic and guilt they couldn’t fully dispel.

“Pure Vessel.”

As a result of extensive training, they managed not to flinch as Father’s voice reached them clearly and suddenly, instead merely inclining their head in his direction.

The Pale King watched them intently through the clear barriers between them. “Watch over the Daughter of Deepnest and verify whether the unknown bug is any threat. Go into their enclosures if you must, use force if necessary.” He then turned back to the moth that Pure was studiously ignoring, leaving them to their own devices.

Pure grasped the orders with slight desperation. If they could keep their body moving, maybe it would lessen the emotions that were becoming increasingly hard to stifle.

The container they were in was split in three, with Hornet to their left and the unknown but curiously familiar-feeling hidden bug to their right. Herrah’s daughter came first, as per Father’s orders.

They called on their Soul, teleporting past the clear wall and into her area. Hornet seemed to be focusing on something, nodding her head and saying “Yes, Mother” in response to nothing. Once she snapped back to attention, though, she immediately noticed Pure and ran up to them.

“Hello, Pure,” she said, bowing her head slightly. Pure returned the gesture. It had been a long time since they had last seen each other; Father hadn’t let them interact with anyone other than himself, Mother, the Dreamers, and the Great Knights once their training had begun in earnest. She looked them up and down, even walking a circle around them, before saying, “You’re a lot bigger than the last time I saw you.” Pure nodded again, faintly amused. Hornet had grown as well since they last saw each other, but they had almost been the same size back then; theirs was a much more noticeable difference.

Hornet glanced at the other box, where the Pale King and the Radiance seemed to be holding a staring contest, before reaching up to grab Pure’s hand, tugging them towards what looked like a hollow log. Pure allowed themself to be pulled along into the tunnel, relieved that it seemed big enough for them if they minded their horns and left their nail at its mouth. As soon as they were inside, Hornet used her needle to pull an invisible string of silk and a curtain made from a large leaf fell over the entrance.

“For privacy,” Hornet explained. “The other one doesn’t want to be seen for some reason.”

Pure’s curiosity rose unbidden. Hornet had a good sense for danger, from what they recalled; if she hadn’t mentioned it by now, the other bug wasn’t likely a threat. Who were they then? And why was that feeling of familiarity getting stronger as they moved through the tunnel?

Soon enough, they came to the end, which was pressed against the wall separating them from the unknown bug. Hornet’s lumafly lantern was sitting there, illuminating part of what looked like a hollowed mound on the other side. That would explain why Pure couldn’t see the bug from outside.

Making sure Pure was watching, Hornet walked over to the wall and tapped on it. Almost immediately, a figure darted forward from the shadows and tapped back.

Pure reared back in shock.

“They look like you,” Hornet said thoughtfully.

The little figure on the other side of the wall pressed itself against the material, its mask cocked to the side. Many of their siblings’ masks had blurred together in their memory, both whole and broken, but this one… two-pronged horns so much like theirs but thinner, body just as small as theirs had once been, a little hand reaching and a silent voice crying out—

“ **Sibling!** ”

In a flood of emotion that broke through the carefully crafted blocks they had made, Pure disappeared in a flash of shade, causing Hornet to yelp in surprise, only to reappear in the same spot with the vessel in their arms. They were so small compared to themself, and that only made them hold tighter. The little one didn’t mind, bringing their mask up to bump against Pure’s and issuing a stream of **calm-joy-forgive** to counter the **sorry-sorry-sorry** that Pure couldn’t help but whine in the Void-tongue they shared.

The last time they had seen their sibling, Pure had thought they had fallen to their death... and they had done nothing.

Pure felt Hornet sidle up next to them. “Do you know them?” she asked softly. Upon noticing her, their sibling scrambled across their lap and bumped masks with Hornet too, eliciting a giggle from the other bug. Pure nodded once she could see them, placing a hand between the little one’s horns. They leaned into the touch with a voiceless sigh.

Maybe…

Maybe things could still turn out alright.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, this chapter did not want to be written. I had to rewrite it a few times, and I’m not quite happy with it, but I’ve spent enough time wrestling with it. Trying to fit everyone's impressions of the humans and the situation was too clunky, so we'll be getting that in pieces. There's also some of my own headcanons in here, such as the White Lady having power over Voice (my reasoning pulls from communication over mycelium networks, plus it's a nice parallel to the Pale King).  
> PV needs and deserves all the hugs and cuddles.  
> Let me know if you see any errors and comments are always appreciated! I'm also on tumblr as astronomicartz, where I might post art for this story in the future. You can ask me stuff there too.  
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Interpretations

“Have you got the counter? Good. I’ll be in the back room, call me if you need me.”

Denise pulled the door closed behind her and tossed her bookbag lightly onto the floor by the desk. She pulled over a rolling chair and sat down, then proceeded to grab her laptop and a few books from her bag, placing them next to the empty moth tank she had set out the previous night.

A short glance found that some things had been shifted around and the food had been touched, so the moth had gotten in at some point. She didn’t know where it was now, but she supposed it would appear when least expected again. Her shift was over, so she could begin categorizing and identifying the new bugs and wait for the moth to show up later.

She grabbed a small notepad and pencil to write down all the characteristics she could see at a glance, so she could cross-reference them with some online databases and books to compare against her own guesses and observations. If she couldn’t match them to any known species, she would then separate and take them out carefully to look closer.

She rolled over to the shelving unit to look over the containers, wondering which one she wanted to choose first. She winced when she saw all the scratches marring the surfaces of some of them; those would definitely be staying in the back room. She would have to be careful handling the bugs within if they could do such damage.

“Good afternoon, guys,” she said brightly, her habit of talking to the bugs in her care kicking in. “Hope you had a good night and morning. Time to figure out what you all are.”

She decided to just go in order from left to right, starting with the lowest shelf. Rolling closer, she observed the meandering bees in their specialized container, flipping open to a blank page of the notebook to record her thought process as she mumbled to herself.

Based on their fuzziness and plump bodies, she had pegged them all as bumblebees, but there seemed to be slight differences between them, including a noticeable size disparity. While one of the larger bees and three of the smaller ones were very fuzzy and mostly fit the description of female bumblebees, the large bee they had been following into the container, which she assumed was the queen, seemed more like a honeybee. One of their number was somewhat in the middle in terms of size and fuzz, and since she couldn’t see a stinger it was likely a male. When she leaned in and squinted it didn’t seem to have wings either. Was that a new development or—

**BONK**

Denise stifled a high-pitched yelp and reared backwards as the largest bumblebee slammed into the tank’s wall, right where her face had been. She steadied her chair and put a hand over her chest, letting out a nervous giggle. The movement had spooked her the most but the noise had been _loud_ as well. There had to have been some force behind it.

Suddenly, a hissing-chittering sound descended from elsewhere in the room, coming from the missing moth as it landed on her left shoulder again, adding to the mini heart attack. Denise had no idea what to make of the moth seeming to _scold_ the bees from its perch, but maybe that was just the anthropomorphizing talking. She tended to do that with her various charges.

More bizarre was the moth’s _choice_ of perch. Twice now it had placed itself on her shoulder, utterly unbothered by her movement or size. Denise was itching to figure out the source of its strange behavior, but it wasn’t as if she could ask it. Well… she could, but she wouldn’t get an answer. “You are the weirdest moth I’ve _ever_ seen,” she said, turning her head slightly to address the fluffy insect. A small squeak answered her. Maybe she should name it.

Turning her attention back to the bee tank, she saw that the attacking bee had moved further back into the container, and the queen and wingless bee had approached. They didn’t seem to be in any distress, and Denise knew that the temperature of the room was around their optimal range, but they seemed too still to be normal, as if waiting for something. “Why do I feel like I’m having a staring contest with you. You don’t blink, I’ll always lose.”

The container wasn’t meant to hold them long-term, at least not inside; there were no flowers to collect from here and the sugar solution she was currently using shouldn’t be given to them for very long. She would have to either release them or move them soon. She’d been looking into keeping a small hive on her apartment balcony, maybe she could keep them there with her potted flowers and see if they made honey or not. The landlady was pretty lax, she’d probably allow it.

She wrote down a few more notes and replenished the food supply before turning to the next container. The spiders had already begun to spin webs around their habitat, so it was a bit difficult to see them all, especially through the little areas that were especially scratched. The webs looked like slightly more organized cobwebs, maybe mesh. The three smallest spiders with their red coloration were just barely visible within the tangle, so Denise could only just make out their round… abdomens? Those looked like eyes… no, they had to be markings. Ugh, she was getting a headache trying to focus her vision hard enough. They were probably of theridiidae, or perhaps araneidae, what with the webs and body shape, but she couldn’t be sure.

There were two larger ones, this time with a strange bluish coloration. Their legs were just as thin as the little ones, but the bodies were thicker. Despite being larger and less hidden, though, Denise still had a hard time focusing on details. It was even worse for the two largest, one black and unornamented, the other a lightish gray and faded blue with pointed horns. Both were in plain sight, facing her, but for the life of her Denise could not identify either one. The one with horns had… six eyes? Was it even a spider? She swore that they had all looked more like recognizable spiders when she put them in the containers yesterday.

“Hnng, why does looking at you give me a headache?” she murmured irritably as she looked away, massaging her temple with her right hand so as not to disturb the moth that was still on her shoulder. “I’ll just… wait until the webs are more built up, check for a tapetum later to maybe narrow it down a bit.” She would have to remove them at some point to get a better look probably, but she was very hesitant to do that without having some idea of the species. She dropped in some small crickets and moved on.

Next were the mantids. Their container was much more heavily scratched than the others. It was a little concerning that they were able to do this much damage actually. She knew that mantis claws could be sharp to catch prey but not enough to mark plastic. Even as she watched, one of the larger three mantises cut a line into the side of the container facing her. Oddly enough, she swore she saw a flash of silver at the movement. “You have zero chill,” she said with a small smile, at the same time the moth let out a small hiss. “You’re feisty, and that’s cool and all, but please don’t damage my tanks anymore.” Another of the three slashed again in defiance.

They were at least easier to categorize than the spiders, even though the prickling in the back of her mind didn’t go away. They didn’t seem to have any natural camouflage, such as leaflike ornamentation, so that knocked out a few species. The size of the largest ones seemed to be around 4 inches if she was eyeballing that right, so maybe they were female Chinese mantises? Those were common in the area, though the bluish-gray coloring was perhaps more typical of a Carolina mantis. The only kink in either of those guesses were the two horn-like protrusions on their heads; the only mantid species she knew of with horns only had one. In addition, the three smaller adults and the two nymphs lacked them, so perhaps those were a different species.

She’d have to do a bit more research. At least if the other ones were either of those she might be able to get them checked out to sell in the store.

The pressure had continued to build behind her eyes, so Denise decided to take a small break. Maybe she was getting sick? She had stayed up pretty late studying for that exam a few days ago, maybe the stress was finally catching up to her. She opened up her laptop to start researching and unzipped her bag again; there might still be a Tylenol in there…

 

* * *

 

Herrah watched attentively as the Tall Being, as the Radiance had uncreatively named, turned away from the shelves and began rummaging in its pack. The Little Weavers and Devouts were already taking care of the gifted meal.

“Such an expressive face, without a mask to shield it,” said the Midwife lightly beside her after a short time. “Very foreign, yet pain is a universal experience it seems, heehee. What do you suppose caused it, my Queen?”

“The Wyrm likely has something to do with it,” Herrah murmured. “Or else that infernal moth. It did not seem much distressed when it first arrived.” She pulled on the connection that Root had provided. “Any explanations to the creature’s distress, Wyrm?”

There was a bit of silence before he replied. “It would seem that it has some sensitivity to my glamour, perhaps even a growing resistance. It is becoming harder for its eyes to reconcile the glamour’s trick on its mind with our true forms. The effect will likely intensify as time goes on, the more what it sees clashes with what it _thinks_ it should see.”

“I do so hope that we may be able to communicate soon,” Monomon interjected brightly.

“You seem excited, Teacher,” Herrah stated.

“Indeed I am. It has the look of a scholar, see its writing implements? How it studied you? I look forward to seeing its notes, there will be much to learn in this exchange.”

“Hopefully that will be soon,” said the White Lady kindly. As her Focus was Voice, the interpretation of language came easily to her. The many words the Radiance had heard from their captors during transport gave her a decent head start, and their current caretaker spoke often. 

She expanded her reach to all of her fellow captives and the moth still seated on the Being’s shoulder, who had been skimming its mind for the meanings behind its speech to help speed translation. “With the Radiance’s aid in her proximity to the Tall Being, I have made great progress in deciphering its words. We are fortunate that this creature tends to speak to itself so often.” A pang of nostalgia went through her. It was a trait her Wyrm carried, one that she had loved before those mutterings turned to Void and Vessels. She shook herself out of the melancholy, making her voice steady as she continued, “There is, however, one complication.

“While we will, perhaps by the end of this day, be able to understand it, we will not be able to speak its tongue. It is a matter of physical impossibility.” Root felt unrest well up in the web of Voices, and sent a brief pulse of reassurance to quiet them. “There is still a way to enable the Being to hear us. However, the idea will undoubtedly meet some resistance, and it will not be an easy task.”

The Pale King stiffened where he stood. “Surely you don’t mean…” he trailed off incredulously.

“I do. I must give the Tall Being our language, so that it may understand us speaking in our native tongue, but to do so it must be Dreaming. With its foreign mind, a spell will be necessary to send it to sleep, and the only one among us with the right command over Dream to accomplish the casting of the Dream afterwards would be the Radiance.”

There was an immediate outcry from the shelves below her. The Tall Being looked over curiously, said something to itself, and turned back to its strange light panel.

“You wish for the Old Light to have a foothold in its mind? Have you lost your senses?” yelled Ziria, the eldest of the Mantis Lords.

Her younger sister Sikka, just as outraged, continued, “In case you have forgotten, Dreams of her fill bugs with sickness and mindless rage! What sort of damage would she be able to do with this creature in her sway?”

“For the last time, the Infection was _accidental_ and will _not_ happen again,” called the Radiance, sending her Voice directly so as not to disturb the Being she was perched on. Irritation leaked strongly through. “As I’ve explained already, I’m no longer in danger of being forgotten, and it is certainly not something I wish to recreate intentionally.”

“And we are supposed to simply take your word for it?” Drosa, the youngest Lord, asked challengingly. “After what your Light did to Kasai?”

“Why not simply include the creature’s Voice, Root, as you have done with the rest of us, using your power to translate?” asked Vespa, cutting into the blooming argument. The Mantis Lords had a point, but personal grudges would get them nowhere in this situation; they could take it up at a later time. The Hive hadn’t been touched by the Infection, so she didn’t have any strong feelings towards the Radiance. With what she had heard in regards to that orange plague, however, she still wanted to know if there were any other options available.

“If only it were that simple,” the White Lady sighed. “The Being’s mind is rather heavily fortified while awake, and my power cannot reach through. Even if I _could_ tether its Voice now, our meaning would still escape it. Its defenses should lower while asleep and a Dream is necessary to make the exchange.”

“Forgive my intrusion, your Highness, but Herrah, Monomon, and myself are also skilled in that magic,” Lurien said. “Might we be able to accomplish this task?”

“Your task had been to cast _yourselves_ into a Dream as a Seal, not another,” the Pale King cut in. “The workings of the spell, construction of the Temple, and my own Light would have supported you. In this matter, the amount of Soul necessary coupled with the strain to cast this Dream would drain you three dry.”

The Wyrm was loath to agree with this idea, considering the key role of the Radiance, but the more he thought of it, the more it seemed necessary. If they couldn’t speak with the Being, they would either have to escape another way and brave dangerous unfamiliar lands to return to Hallownest or show their intelligence through convoluted charades, neither of which was ideal. Bidirectional communication would be efficient and prevent misinterpretation.

He particularly hated hinging their escape on the cooperation of such a foreign creature and on the Radiance’s word concerning its emotional motives, but so far it was their best shot, despite the unknowns. He would be willing to cast aside his rivalry with the moth for the sake of his subjects. Just for now. And if his Root thought this was the best way, he would follow her. It was… the least he could do.

He would certainly not allow the Radiance into its mind unsupervised, though. He wasn’t an idiot.

“I will agree to this plan,” he began, taking a moment to enjoy the shock emanating from the Radiance, “on the stipulation that I craft the sleeping spell and join this Dream as well.”

There was a small pause as this was mulled over. “No tricks, Wyrm,” said the Radiance darkly. “If I find even a hint of treachery, I will personally ensure that you never see your kingdom again.”

He raised his hands placatingly. “No tricks.” Too much risk, unfortunately. “The spell will take me a few days to craft and tether if I work quickly, perhaps less with the help of my Dreamers. We will be able to understand the Being soon, but let us not draw too much attention to ourselves before it is complete.”

“Are there any objections?” asked the White Lady.

The Mantis Lords did not speak up, though they seemed unhappy about it. At the very least, they could trust the Pale King to act in his own self-interest and keep the Radiance in check. Everyone else seemed to agree, as no other options were forthcoming.

As the Tall Being returned to its inspection, the Pale King retreated inside the fake rock shelter that he had been provided. He didn’t have any writing implements, but carving would make do. _Finally_ , he sighed internally, _a concrete task_.

Time to get to work.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with a new chapter! Had to go through finals and moving back home, so there were some delays.  
> Next chapter, we’ll see some of the other characters who got taken, as they’ve mostly been silent up to now (as Hallownest citizens, who are they to disagree with their King...?). Still some time to suggest any faves you want to see, though I’ve mostly got a cast figured out already.  
> As always, let me know if you catch any errors. Thanks for reading!


	5. Names

When Mato had separated from his brothers and the Great Nailsage to continue building his house in the Cliffs a few days ago, he hadn’t expected to later find himself trapped and being observed by a colossal creature alongside the highest figures of Hallownest, neighboring with the Queen herself and a thoroughly panicked Stag.

The first thing he had done after capture was use his nail to try and escape, of course, but even his Nail Art left only deep scratches instead of shattering his container. Perhaps one of his brothers’ mastered Arts would have been able to do more damage, but his wasn’t as concentrated. After that— with reassurances from the White Lady, and later the Pale King and the moth they called the Radiance— the newly-named Nailmaster had resigned himself to tending his nail, searching for weak points, and trying to calm his neighbor.

The Stag had probably taken their change in location the worst. It was common knowledge that they were born, raised, and lived their entire lives in the stagways that ran across the kingdom. To be suddenly plucked from those tunnels and not only placed in an open confined space, but so far from the only home he had ever known… the Stag had been near catatonic at the shock of it all for the greater part of the journey. The other part consisted of anxious pacing that no one was keen to interrupt for fear of being trampled… or for being unconscious at the time in the case of the Pale King and the tall bug near him.

(He would never say it out loud, of course, but Mato still found it hilarious that he had managed to be in the presence of the elusive Pale King of Hallownest himself, a high honor granted to very few bugs, and his Majesty had been asleep almost the entire time.)

Mato had only been able to speak to the Stag after being transferred to the new container, the shock having passed enough for the poor thing to register the sound of him tapping against the glass-like wall between them. They had talked a bit and Mato had suggested that the Stag move some of the structures around to make a sheltered nest, a task he had applied himself to with gusto.

The Stag had shown great strength and speed in rearranging his accommodations while Mato assembled his own shelter, but he could tell from the Stag’s restless limbs afterwards that it was only a small comfort.

The Nailmaster didn’t have much experience with the beasts; he’d liked exploring on foot more than the convenience, and the Nailsage had reinforced that behavior as part of their conditioning. Nonetheless, in these strange circumstances, he could tell that the Stag needed a distraction and a friend, and Mato was happy to provide.

He settled down next to the wall closest to his neighbor’s shelter, tapping on the material to get the Stag’s attention. “Hello again. Are you feeling any better?”

The Stag stepped closer to the entrance of the small tunnel he had constructed, to better see Mato, then lay on the ground to be more on his level with a huff.

“Somewhat. I’m better than I was before, at any rate. And how do you fare, Nailmaster?”

Mato blinked. “How did you know that I am a Nailmaster?”

The Stag spoke next with a smile in his gruff voice. “We Stags are taught the various roles and titles before we leave the Nest in order to properly address our passengers. I recognize your attire from those lessons. You are wearing the traditional color, yes?”

Mato raised a hand to the band around his head. Those who had mastered the Nail through the traditional apprenticeship and training usually wore the pinkish red color he now clothed himself in. The headband was generally worn after learning all the Nail Arts and becoming a Nailmaster. He was still getting used to it.

“That’s right. You can just call me Mato, though, less syllables.” Oh, where were his manners? “I just realized I’d never asked your name.”

The beast seemed to draw into himself, and Mato feared he’d made a mistake. The Stags had names, didn’t they?

His neighbor seemed to notice and spoke up, “I apologize. Just… no one has asked for my name before. It’s usually only given if a regular or a high-ranking noble has a preferred Stag.”

“Well, I’ll be seeing you regularly, yeah? We’re a long way from Hallownest, you’re going to be everyone’s preferred Stag here.”

There was a moment of silence before the Stag said quietly, “Gale. My name is Gale.”

Mato smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Gale.”

“May I have your attention, everyone?”

Both bugs flinched at the sudden voice in their minds, though they relaxed soon enough upon recognizing that it was the White Lady’s. It had been some time since she had last called out; enough time for the large creature to examine the rest of the tanks, return to its desk for a time, and be called out of the room just moments ago. They both leaned around the simple house Mato had constructed in order to see the Queen in the box beside theirs.

Though the White Lady was a slightly more common sight than the Pale King, she was a much more foreign figure. She sat still and patient upon a seat made of her own roots, which now snaked out from under her robes and planted firmly into the soil. The branches adorning her head had grown past the wild crown they were normally kept as, with a very pale light glowing at each tip. Her crystal blue eyes met Mato and Gale’s, and she inclined her head slightly to acknowledge them. They bowed back.

“I have translated enough of the Tall Being’s language to send it out to all of you. You may feel some slight disorientation, but it will quickly pass. Is this acceptable?” There was general agreement.

The Queen’s branches glowed slightly brighter before Mato’s senses blanked out, his vision going pure white. His sight came back within a few short moments to see Gale shaking his shaggy head and…

The Nailmaster stood up and unsheathed his greatnail in one fluid motion, pointing its tip at the strange little bug that had suddenly appeared by the transparent divider. “Who are you and how did you get in here?” he shouted, only to falter when the intruder stumbled dizzily and fell forward into the dirt.

Mato ran forward in concern, keeping his nail at his side just in case. The little bug slowly got into a sitting position, running a hand over their mask as if to check it was whole before shaking their head vigorously. They were so small! Even smaller than the Nailsage if you discounted their thin two-pronged horns. He didn’t know what kind of bug they were, but they probably weren’t fully grown. Mato sheathed his nail and knelt in front of them as they tried to stand up again. They immediately tottered dangerously on their feet and just before they could faceplant again, Mato instinctively caught them, saying, “Careful, now, are you alright?”

The stranger’s gaze snapped up to meet Mato’s, as if just realizing he was there. He couldn’t see their eyes from within the shadows of their mask, but his unease was swept aside by his concern.

They tilted their head, glanced over themself, shook their mask once, and then raised their hands towards him in a gesture he recognized from watching children and their parents. Were they a child? What were they doing here? …had they been here the whole time and he hadn’t noticed?

Mato obligingly scooped up the little one and walked back to the Stag. They began pawing at the fur collar of his cloak and he smiled as he sat down.

“Where did they come from?” Gale sounded very confused. That made two of them.

“No clue,” said Mato, plopping the stranger down onto his lap and tugging his cloak down a little so they could continue to play with it. “They simply appeared in the flash like a ghost.” The little one’s own cloak had a clean cut on one side, as if cut off with a sharp blade. Mato lifted it up to examine it closer, only for it to be snatched by the little one when it crossed their line of sight, like they had just noticed the damage. New, then. They let out a tiny dejected whine that sounded like wind passing over pipe.

“I’m sure someone can get it fixed,” Mato soothed, patting their mask. They looked up at him. “My name is Mato, and this is Gale,” he said, gesturing to the Stag, who nodded to them. “What is yours, little ghost?” The stranger simply tilted their head and pointed at him. “Your name is Mato as well?” They shook their head and pointed again.

“Is your name Ghost?” Gale questioned. That got an enthusiastic nod. “Then greetings, Ghost!” he said warmly.

Mato laughed a little in embarrassment and tossed the little one lightly in the air. “Ah, yes, well met, little Ghost!” They wiggled happily and raised their arms, so Mato repeated the motion a few times. They did not laugh, but they seemed to enjoy it. “The questions remains, however,” he said, bringing them down onto his lap again. “How in the world did you get here?”

As if that were some unknown cue, Ghost perked up all of a sudden, bumped their mask against Mato’s, and scrambled off his lap to stand a short distance away, staggering slightly. They waved to both of them, and in a flash of shadow they were gone, leaving Nailmaster and Stag to stare in bewilderment at the space they had vacated.

A long moment passed.

“You… you saw that too, right?”

Gale nodded mutely.

The Queen had not.

 

* * *

 

Hornet was practicing with her needle when the Tall Being left, swinging it around in deliberate patterns and occasionally taking short leaps. It wasn’t full size, instead being just smaller than herself and not very sharp, but it served its purpose as a training weapon well enough. Mother had told her that she would be given a proper one once she could prove her skill with the one she had and the accompanying thread. The needle had quickly become an extension of herself as she crested swiftly over the learning curve, excitement at the wind whistling past her mask and determination to impress her Mother and teachers carrying her. In a way, after the terror had worn off, she was glad that the Tall Beings had found them… now she had more time to perfect her skills and earn her needle before Mother had to Dream.

She threw her needle at the tallest structure in her enclosure, a long trunk of something she hesitantly identified as wood that ran from the ground to just below the ceiling. The point sunk into the top with a _thunk_ , the momentum pulling the thread it was attached to towards the point of impact and bringing Hornet with it.

The small bug maneuvered to land on top of her near-horizontal needle, slipping a little as she straightened and frowning at the mistake. She held her balance for a few more moments, until she was almost startled into falling when Pure abruptly appeared below her. Hornet crouched to get a better grip, watching as the Hollow Knight swept their gaze around the enclosure. They didn’t look up.

A spark of mischievousness came over Hornet. She’d never been able to startle Pure before. She quietly pulled her needle out of the wood, bracing herself against the rough surface while orienting the weapon to point towards her prey. Aiming for their pauldrons, she pushed off her perch with all her might, resisting the urge to let out a battle cry as she sailed towards them.

As she got closer and they made no indication that they had heard her, Hornet nearly cheered in victory. Just before she could change her position to land on their back instead of glancing her needle off their armor, the Hollow Knight faced her in a flash.

Time seemed to slow as Pure brought up their longnail horizontally, using their other hand to brace its flat side as it met Hornet’s needle. They pushed against it with just enough force to gently flip the red-clad bug over their horns. Hornet’s midair training with the Weavers allowed her to orient herself so that she landed on unsteady feet and stumbled backwards into a sitting position rather than face-plant into the dirt.

The two bugs stared at each other. “You knew I was there, didn’t you.” Pure glanced over to the neighboring container for a moment before nodding, huffing lightly in their version of a laugh. They knelt and held out a hand. Hornet rolled her eyes and took it, then began dragging their taller sibling over to her shelter.

She looked towards the other tank briefly as well. The Pale King was still out of view.

Hornet drew the leaf cover after Pure had ducked inside, then tapped the wall. They’d all had to go back to their respective sides of the container when the Tall Being had come back, just in case, but now that it was gone the little one could come back for a bit.

Pure readied to teleport and Hornet had just a second to tilt her head at the lack of response when the White Lady’s Voice entered their minds. Hornet added her agreement to the gift, noticing that the Hollow Knight had gone into a ramrod-straight kneeling position, despite the myriad cracks littering their shell and mask that still hadn’t healed. Nothing came from them that she could feel, but that was to be expected. No Voice, Father had said. That, at least, had not yet been proven untrue.

When Hornet’s senses abruptly left her, she stumbled to the ground with a short yelp. She blinked a few times to clear the white from her vision as she stood back up. Pure was now sprawled on the ground and shaking their mask vigorously. The smaller bug giggled at the undignified sight and then found herself in a similar position when Pure swiped a leg behind her. They both laughed.

They held out a hand to help her up again, which Hornet playfully swatted away. Then they disappeared and reappeared on the other side of the clear wall to look for the little one.

Hornet settled herself more comfortably on the ground and drew out her spool of silk thread. She unraveled a good length of it to make sure there weren’t any knots from her earlier practice before neatly wrapping most of it back. Leaving some out to practice with, she reattached the spool underneath her cloak and placed all of her focus on the string.

While wielding the needle had come easily to the Princess of Deepnest, its accompanying thread had not. Most full spiders had high levels of control over the silk they wove and built with, allowing them to construct their sturdy hanging architecture, create intricate spells, and trap elusive prey. Hornet, however, even with her full concentration on the thread, could barely make it float off the ground, glimmering weakly.

She stared at the strand some more before sighing, letting it flutter back down so she could roll it back into the spool. She hated the thought of never being able to truly wield the weapon Mother used just because she wasn’t a full spider. Both the White Lady and Mother had told her that maybe she needed to figure out her own way of manipulating the thread, but she still hadn’t figured anything out.

She took out a small silk cloth and began cleaning her needle to taker her mind off those thoughts. Maybe she could lend it to Pure later; the cloth would be better for cleaning their own nail than using their torn-up cloak.

She nearly stabbed her needle into Pure’s eye when they suddenly materialized in front of her after a few minutes, looming over her and making a near inaudible keening sound. “Please don’t do that again,” Hornet sighed, lowering her weapon. She looked around their imposing figure and frowned when she didn’t see their newest sibling. “Where are they, what happened?” she asked worriedly, now noticing their noise and posture.

They keened again and held out a small nail Hornet recognized as belonging to their smaller sibling. Then they leaned back, dragging one of their long fingers in the soil to scrawl a few words. She scrambled around to sit at their side and read, ‘Cannot find. Cannot feel. Did not answer call. Gone.’

She blinked. “Gone?” she wondered aloud. “They can’t have escaped, I checked the holes. There’s no way they could’ve squeezed through them, not even with that dull nail of theirs—”

**CRACK**

Hornet let out a small shriek and Pure flinched at the distinct sound of a mask breaking behind them. They both whirled around before rushing forward with unknowingly matching shouts of “ **SIBLING**!” towards the small dangerously-swaying figure that had appeared.

The little one had a long crack snaking up their mask, similar to the one on Pure’s own, and a noticeable portion of their cloak was missing. Void defied gravity and leaked up from their eyes and body, especially from the crack and even from the cuts in their garment. Their hunched frame was heaving up and down, hitching as they tried to stay on their feet.

Pure dashed forward to catch them when they started to list forward, Hornet following. They cradled the little one in their lap, taking care not to exacerbate their sudden injuries. “ **What happened?** ” Pure said urgently, projecting **concern-surprise-panic** so strongly that even Hornet felt it.

“How did you get here, appearing like a ghost and nearly as dead?” exclaimed Hornet, sounding harsh but only as a front to her own concern.

The little one finally reacted, looking at Hornet with excitement. “ **Name is Ghost!** ” they announced, then cuddled into Pure’s arms, seemingly unconcerned with the Void rising from their wounds beyond a faint whimper. It was nice to know they had a name now, but Pure was still immensely confused and worried.

“ **What happened**?” Pure repeated more firmly, nudging them and trailing a finger near the thankfully thin crack in their mask pointedly. It didn’t seem like their mask would split entirely as long as nothing else hurt them, but Pure was at a loss on how to heal them. The only healing spell they knew wouldn’t work on others, and… they didn’t know how Father would react and frankly did not want to find out.

Ghost hummed. “ **Scared by Voice, teleported by accident. Too far, got hurt? Met Mato. Met Gale. Got name! Heard Sibling, came back.”**

Everything made simultaneously more and less sense. It had taken Pure a long time to learn and then get the hang of that skill, to Father’s frustration. Once they could even blink out and into existence in the first place, they kept appearing further and farther down than they meant to. If they exceeded a certain range their mask and shell would crack under the strain, not to mention how many bits of clothing they had lost to phasing near walls. But again, it had taken them a _long time to learn_. “ **How in Father’s name did you even learn to do that?** ”

“ **Felt from Sibling. Copied!** ” Ghost held up their arms in triumph. Pure blinked. Well. Impressive.

Pure became aware of a tugging on their cloak and turned to look at Hornet. She was faintly shivering, which made them abruptly aware of the temperature drop because of the Void in the air. Her voice had a slight tremble as she spoke, “Are you... talking to them?” Pure nodded. She seemed to brighten for a moment before frowning again. “I just can’t hear it.” Another nod, a small sigh in return. “You can explain later, I suppose. I can… probably weave a small patch or two to infuse with Soul and put on their injuries, but I don’t know how much help that would be.”

It would be faster than them healing on their own, Pure thought. Or… oh! They lifted their index finger to Hornet in a ‘wait’ gesture that came off a bit more imperious than they intended, given they learned it from the Pale King. They turned to their smallest sibling and said,” **I am going to teach you something. I will do it once, and you will copy. Okay?”**

Ghost gave a feeling of **confirmation** and Pure continued, “ **This is called Focus. You concentrate on your Soul and surround yourself with it to heal.** ” They closed their eyes and felt the cool white energy flow up and around them, taking care not to use the offensive version they had also been taught. A few circular runelike patterns appeared and some of their remaining scratches faded, but the hairline crack across their right eye did not. Pure picked up Ghost, ignoring their tiny whine, and sat them down upright on their lap. “ **Now you try**.”

The little one lowered their mask and concentrated. The Void leaking off of them started to swirl faster at first, prompting some panic, but white Soul soon mingled with the black substance until only it was left. Their torn cloak rose in the fake breeze the Soul created as it sealed cracks in its wake. With a single flash of white, their mask had repaired itself and their cloak had lengthened into a more jagged edge. Pure could tell they would need to do it a few more times once they had recovered more Soul, and told them as much.

Ghost decided to snuggle back up to them again, radiating **comfort-security-safety**. It was… strange, being in such close positive contact. There had barely been any of it when they had first left the Abyss and even less as time had gone on, but it was familiar still, edged in dark and cold. They instinctively curled an arm around their sibling.

“What was that?”

Pure mentally startled from their musings, only physically turning their head to face Hornet once more. She was no longer shivering, but she looked somewhat annoyed. Pure reached out their free arm to write out ‘Sorry’ in the dirt, for ignoring her.

Hornet shook her head and patted their leg. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll have to figure out a better way to communicate if these visits are going to happen often. What was that, a spell?”

They nodded again and wrote, ‘Focus, healing spell. Uses Soul.’

Hornet thought for a moment. “Can you teach me? I’ve only learned about Weaver spells so far, and I’m not much good with them yet.” Maybe it could help with her thread control. “I can help you with your writing at the same time.”

Hornet took the gentle mask-bump as an affirmative.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Apologies for the long wait, writer’s block sucks.  
> I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have some Dadmaster Mato, the temptation was too great, and now Ghost has a name! Hearing Hornet say it too really cemented it to them. The not-yet-Old Stag now has a name as well.  
> If you want to see some of my sketches for this fic, check out my tumblr, @astronomicartz. I can take questions there too, answer with drawings, or even just talk! My inbox is open.  
> Let me know if you spot any mistakes, and thanks for reading!


	6. A Foreign Voice

Quirrel blinked the spots out of his eyes. When the White Lady had said “slight disorientation” he hadn’t expected complete sensory deprivation for a few moments. Maybe it was less of a problem for higher beings? At least the warning had allowed him to steel himself so he didn’t curl up in surprise. He would’ve been picking loose dirt out of his carapace again otherwise, and he wasn’t keen on using the provided drinking water to bathe. 

He stood up from the sitting position he had ended up in, then walked over to the rightmost corner of his container. He pressed his mask to the glass-like material, _just_ able to see the water-filled tank that housed the Teacher, a few uomas, and, miraculously, two oomas. The little jellies were currently clustered around Monomon, who was upside down. 

“Madam? Are you alright?” Quirrel called worriedly along the connection the Queen had provided. It still felt odd to use, but he had to admit it was very useful. 

The faraway form of the Teacher suddenly twitched and looped back upright, scattering the onlookers. Her light bubbling voice replied, “I am fine! Merely lost my sense of direction for a moment. How do you fare, Quirrel?”

“Just a bit dizzy, that’s all.” _And glad to hear your voice_ , he did not add. After being so prepared to never see Monomon ever again, to venture into the wastes beyond the kingdom as protection for the Seal, to leave his home in the Archives behind… hearing the Teacher’s voice was a blessing every time.

“That is good to hear,” she said, oblivious to his thoughts. “Hopefully it passes soon. Oh! I am so excited, we are finally going to be able to observe the Being’s speech patterns! I wish I had my acid to inscribe these moments in, this water is not conducive to my normal methods. Did you happen to bring any tablets or scrolls?”

“Ah...” Quirrel turned around to face the spot where he had left his messenger bag and gifted nail, visualizing what he had put inside. “Two vials of acid tablets, filled, and one stone journal. I’d been using the latter to document the appearance of the Being, but I believe there’s some space left for this event on it.” 

Monomon hummed. “Not nearly enough for a proper record, but then again, this wasn’t our... intended destination. I eagerly await reading your findings, my dear archivist.”

“I could relay what I have so far if you’d like, Madam?”

“No, no, I’d prefer reading it all together with you once I properly see you again. That reminds me, though...” The Teacher floated higher in her tank, pressing a tentacle against the closed top. “I am afraid the sound does not carry very well through the water. As I cannot surface due to this cover, I will be unable to hear the first words. Would you be willing to relay them for me?”

“Of course, Madam, it’s no trouble at all.”

“Thank you, Quirrel. And please, we are hardly in a formal setting, you _can_ call me Monomon,” she said teasingly. 

“I’d say sharing a shelf with the King and a direct line with the Queen counts as a ‘formal setting,’” he replied with false snobbiness.

“Away from the Palace? Like this? Hardly. I would not recommend contacting the King, of course, he gets a bit snappish when he’s engrossed in a project, but I’m sure the Queen would enjoy your vocal company.” 

“S-snappish?” Quirrel laughed incredulously, not sure how much of what she said was a joke. It was certainly not a word he would associate with the stoic and mysterious Pale King. After seeing him have a go at the Radiance, though… perhaps it was a bit plausible.

“It is true! He gets just as curt as I get excited.”

“So… very much so?” he said wryly, to Monomon’s amusement. “Are you quite sure you should be telling me these things, Madam? What if they’re listening?”

Monomon hummed a negative. “I spoke with the White Lady about that. We can only hear each other if someone initiates the conversation and invites the other, or if the Queen herself pulls us all in. She does not monitor each interaction.”

“I suppose that’s a relief.”

“I imagine it would be a significant headache otherwise. Besides, we shall all have to get a bit more familiar with each other in these circumstances, for better or worse. These are changing times, my dear archivist, and I am eager to see where they take us.”

At that moment, the door swung open to admit the Tall Being. It swept across the room with a large broom, swaying to an unheard beat and occasionally humming a few odd notes. There was a curious brightly colored wire around its neck and leading to both sides of its head that hadn’t been there previously. 

All the inhabitants of the shelving unit watched the Being with bated breath, waiting for its first understandable words. Some pressed against the clear walls, others peeked out of shelters and hiding spaces. All motion and noise ceased within the tanks, unnoticed by all but the Radiance. She peered down from the top shelf, watching the proceedings with interest. When the Being continued to sway around without a single coherent word, however, the moth soon grew impatient.

Ignoring the many eyes that turned to her— especially the Pale King’s disapproving gaze— the Radiance flew down to perch on the Tall Being’s shoulder once again, trying to prompt a reaction. It had absolutely nothing to do with the likelihood of her fur being stroked again; to suggest such a correlation would be a slight against her godly nature worthy of immediate retribution. She would also vehemently deny leaning into the touch when the Being stopped sweeping, smiled, and ran a digit along her body, mindful of her closely-tucked wings. 

And with that motion, the Tall Being opened its mouth and unknowingly spoke its first words to the various rulers, deities, and assorted citizenry of Hallownest, specifically to the God of Dreams: “Hey there, Mothra.” 

Then it continued to sweep, oblivious to the sudden commotion from the tanks.

Quirrel passed along the words to Monomon and the two began speculating on the cadence and tone of its voice as he wrote notes. The White Lady sighed with relief, glad that her translation was working. The Pale King was wheezing to himself at the realization that the Radiance had been given a _pet name_. Many others cheered or felt satisfied that they were one step closer to full communication. 

The Radiance herself was somewhat in a daze. She had nearly forgotten what affection sounded like.

She snapped out of it when the Tall Being spoke again. It had put away the broom and now stood directly in front of the tanks, the same journal and black stick in its hands as earlier. “Okay…” it muttered lowly, “Round two, let’s take it from the top this time.”

It pointed at the box on the topmost shelf furthest to the left with the stick before beginning to write, talking as it did. “Top left. Two weevils in the first section, most likely, with muted gray-blue coloration and long non-elbowed antennae. Brentidae? I’ll need to look closer when I have time tomorrow.”

“What is it doing?” wondered one of the weevils in question. This one was named Cornifer, a foreign mapmaker, if the Radiance recalled correctly. It seemed that the Root had drawn them all into conversation for this.

“I believe the Tall Being is trying to categorize us according to some sort of system,” Monomon responded. “They were doing something similar earlier, studying us like this, weren’t they Quirrel?”

“Ah— yes, Madam. It seems as if they are finishing what they started.”

The Being continued. “Second section, many small white insects. First thought was wooly aphids, but mealybugs seem closer. I haven’t seen any wax coverings yet, and no wings, as far as I can tell.”

“Those would be the tiktiks we’ve been sharing a wall with, I suppose,” came Cornifer’s wife, Iselda. “They’re very annoying.”

“Next container, top center, lar—” It stopped for a second to get closer to the White Lady. “Okay, I’m no mycologist or botanist, I don’t even know if you’re in either of those departments since you were _moving_ yesterday, but you’ve definitely gotten bigger since the last time I checked.”

“How rude,” the Queen stated primly, but without offense. 

“I feel like I should be more concerned about that. Hm. Particulate filter’s working, but I’ll have to hand you off, I think. Can’t sell you in the shop anyway, and I don’t know how to deal with you. Moving on!”

“A shop?” repeated Lurien with incredulity. “Is that what this place is?”

“Not a true research station, then,” Monomon mused.

Herrah growled. “I refuse to be sold off like some interesting centerpiece or common _pet_. I do hope this spell of yours is completed soon, Wyrm.” 

The Tall Being went on categorizing, followed by a steady stream of commentary and conversation that went unnoticed.

The Stag grumbled at being labeled a rhinoceros beetle, while the Nailmaster was called an ox beetle. Ogrim was easily labeled a roller dung beetle, though there was another outcry of concern when it said he “could probably be transferred to the storefront after some consultation about that white coloring.” 

The rest of the Great Knights caused a stall. The Tall Being squinted and got close, but even through the mounting headache, it couldn’t figure out any of their species. The closest it got was saying Isma could be from “phylliidae, maybe.” It wasn’t much of a surprise, though; Isma and Ze’mer had come from other kingdoms, the only of their strange kind in Hallownest, and it wasn’t like Hegemol’s armor hinted at his true nature. Their pale armor, stained but still bright white, also muddled things. 

Lurien got the same treatment, to his delight and the other Dreamers’ dismay. It was rumored that not even the King knew what sort of bug the Watcher was, and it seemed no one was getting their bets confirmed just yet. 

The Pale King did not exit his shelter, even with the Tall Being’s coaxing. “It won’t have any more luck with me than the rest of you,” he dismissed. He hadn’t modeled his new body after any one known bug, after all. “I’d rather continue working than put myself on display.” The Pure Vessel and Hornet were told to stay in their shelters as well by the Pale King and Herrah, respectively, and Ghost was instructed by Pure to do the same (though they did peek out every now and then, unseen). Going off of memory, they received the same unclassified label.

Quirrel was the fastest and easiest to categorize, meaning he was the most closely matched to any sort of insect species the Tall Being had seen. “You look like a pretty classic common pillbug, thank God. Even the coloring’s right. What’s the full Latin… Arma… _Armadillidium vulgare,_ that’s it.” It wrote down the strange name before crouching and looking a bit closer. Quirrel fought the urge to curl up at the focused attention from the much larger creature. “You’re doing pretty good. I should be able to keep you quarantined for a bit longer and then move you with the others.”

“Others…?” Quirrel murmured. Other pillbugs? Like himself, with thoughts and being, or like the little critters that shared his shell but not his mind? He sorely hoped it was the latter, or else they had all completely misjudged this creature.

The Tall Being moved its attention to the Teacher as it stood back up, ignoring the scholar’s slight panic. “You’re in the same boat as the… the tree-looking one. I’ll have to ask around for someone who’ll take you in.”

Finally, since it had already gone through the lowest shelf with the Bees, Spiders, and Mantises, it raised a hand to its shoulder and nudged the Radiance to get on. When she did, it brought the hand close to its face to observe her. “You… are also a big ol’ mystery, Mothra. Silkmoth doesn’t fit since you can fly but still have the white coloring. You’ve got that little crown and that shininess on your two hind legs and you’re bigger than any white moth I’ve seen around here.” It paused as the Radiance settled herself more comfortably on its hand to face it. “I wonder if you’re a new species. Hell, maybe you’re all new species and that’s why I can’t match you. I’d like that better than just suddenly losing my touch.”

The Tall Being shook its head and started lowering its hand to the moth tank. The Radiance took this as her cue to fly off and perch on the edge. “I’ll take some pictures tomorrow and send some emails. Maybe a few professors could get me connections if things pan out.”

It closed its journal and replaced it with a small stack of colorful pieces of parchment. It wrote something on each before peeling them off and sticking them to the sides of certain containers. The two archivists immediately noted its adhesive properties with interest. 

“There!” it exclaimed when it finished, its thunderous clap silencing everyone. It seemed to notice the sudden lack of conversation and looked apologetic. “Must’ve startled them,” it muttered before continuing in a louder voice, “That should keep you organized until I come back tomorrow. I’ll have to get my good camera and figure out a travel box for you guys.” It pointed at the members of the Hive. “I’ve got a nice little balcony with some flowers you might like. Good night.”

With that, the Tall Being scooped up its bag and left the room in darkness once more.

Renewed tension rippled through the containers.

It seemed they were slated to be separated, and that wouldn’t do at all.

 

* * *

 

A nail swung through the air in graceful arcs, cutting through the air with a rhythmic whistle.

A quill scratched across an unrolled length of parchment, illuminated by a lantern and filled half with a maze of lines and half with scribbled drawings.

“How’s that map coming along, Corny?”

A huff. “As well as it can, since I can’t see past those shelves over there. It’s enough to keep myself occupied and not wringing my antennae, I suppose. I see your nail has the same purpose, my dear.”

A laugh. “With everything that’s happening, I’d rather keep my skills sharp and my mind clear. Not that it did much good in preventing any of this.”

Iselda performed one last flourish, more for her own amusement than being any practical maneuver, before sheathing the weapon and moving to sit beside her husband. Cornifer moved over to make space on the short log without having to look up. She leaned against his side, careful not to disturb his writing arm, and watched him work. 

With the help of the various tools removed and replaced from the pouch at his side, the lines across the parchment were clean and precise. There was no persistent danger here, so special care could be given to ensure no ink drippings marred the scroll. On one side, an incomplete top-down view of the room they currently resided in was drawn. Places or people of interest were given small icons, such as glasses crossed with a nail for their current location or a bell-like shape with curved lines below it for the tank of the one called the Teacher. A smaller rendition of the room from their perspective among the shelves was below the other view.

On the other side, more artistic drawings dominated the space, simplistic but with a clear subject. 

There was one of Iselda, the sparse lines following the movement of her nail in a forceful downward swing. 

Another of the Radiance, the foreign moth god, with short strokes for her fur and sweeping curves for her wings. 

The White Lady, the neighboring Queen to their left, was all twisting curling lines contrasting the sharp-edged Pale King beside her. 

Copied script from various labels on the shelves opposite them wound around the drawings, still illegible even with the White Lady’s gift. 

A mess of ink obscured a failed attempt on their giant warden, whose exceptionally strange features proved difficult to replicate.

Finishing a stroke on the map, Cornifer glanced sideways at his wife and doodled her face near the drawings, inky eyes quirked in a smile. She giggled and took the quill from him, adding her own unsteady depiction of him right next to it. They both laughed, and Cornifer packed away his supplies to more comfortably lean back against her, watching the lumaflies flutter against the glass of their lantern.

“This isn’t the kind of adventure I imagined when I married you, you know,” Iselda said after a while. There was a kind smile in her words despite the wry tone.

Cornifer chuckled. “This isn’t quite what I envisioned either, I assure you. I’d hoped we’d find some quiet village to chart so soon after our marriage for a calm retreat before getting into anything this exciting.”

“At least we’re still together and alive,” she sighed. “I feel like a lumafly in a little grub’s jar, though. We should’ve headed to that other kingdom instead, I’ve heard interesting stories about their bells.”

“Ho ho! Perhaps we should have. I’ll be sure to take your direction next time, love, but you must admit, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! _Three_ higher beings with which we have personally communicated with and a gigantic creature never seen before? I may not be a chronicler, but I’m sure our accounts and illustrations of these events will be worth a hefty sum once we return to familiar lands, even as fiction.”

“ _If_ we return,” Iselda stressed. “Corny, we have no idea where we are. For all we know, this ‘Tall Being’ will keep us here forever even _after_ we understand each other. There might be no imminent danger for now, but who knows if or _when_ that will change, and I don’t think it will be something I can use my nail to _protect_ you from…!”

Cornifer took his wife’s claws between his own to stop their wringing. “If it comes to that, we escape,” he said, seriousness replacing his enthusiasm. “I know you’re worried. I am too, but... I’m trying to be optimistic. We’ve gotten out of tough spots before and we’ll do it again, we’ll keep going. These bugs around us, from Hallownest, I’m sure they have the same goal should things go bad, so we won’t be alone. We have three gods on our side, Izzy. I feel good about our chances.”

Iselda held his gaze for a moment more before wrapping him up in a big hug. “I hope you’re right, Corny,” she whispered, holding him tightly. “I really hope you’re right.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Apologies for the long wait, hopefully it won’t be as long next time.  
> Tbh it’s pretty interesting trying to figure out what sort of bugs would most closely mirror everyone. For those who are curious, here’s my reasoning for some of them based on my limited research:  
> I pegged Cornifer and Iselda as weevils for Cornifer’s trunk mostly and because I had seen that comparison before. Their antennae is curved but not bent, hence non-elbowed. The tiktiks aren’t ever referred to as fluffy, so I swapped my initial thought of wooly aphid to mealybugs, which seem more similar. Funnily enough, going purely off of horn/antler shape, Pure would have been labeled a stag beetle instead of the Stag. Phylliidae is a family of leaf mimic insects and Isma’s leafy.  
> Cornifer and Iselda aren’t having the best honeymoon lol.  
> As always, let me know if you find any mistakes, and thanks for reading!


	7. Gods and Acolytes

Isma sat against the rim of her pool of water, nibbling on a small piece of sweet red fruit. She had dragged the pool to the right edge of the enclosure to better see and talk with Ogrim during the light hours, but the dim glow of the lumaflies she had released for the night didn’t extend far enough to see him clearly. His loud humming, however, easily reached her, along with the sounds and vibrations of the dung beetle’s special brand of restless pacing.

She threw her head back against the rim with a sigh, allowing the vine trailing from her head to swish in the water. “Ogrim,” she called using the White Lady’s gift, “are you going to rest tonight or will you continue keeping me up with your rolling.”

The noise stopped. After a brief moment of silence, Ogrim’s voice came, sheepish, “Ah, my apologies, Lady Isma. I was not aware you could hear it.”

She gave a small laugh. “It was not so much the hearing but the _feeling_ , dear. We may not be in the same box, but we do share a shelf, and you use quite a bit of force.“

“I will try to be softer then. Apologies once again.”

Isma sat up a little straighter against the pool, finishing her bit of fruit. “Do you not intend to rest? We’ve both, and a great many others, not slept since we arrived,” she asked with a touch of concern. She understood the reason why, of course, considering the circumstances of their capture and the threat of separation that now hung over them, but they needed to keep themselves sharp for the same reason. Should further danger befall them, they would all need to be at their peak.

Ogrim’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I do not believe sleep is... the wisest option at this time. The Old Light has control over Dreams, Isma, and I am not convinced her intentions hold no malice.”

The knight exhaled a soft “Oh.” She turned her gaze outside of her container, towards the faint golden glow of a certain moth that had perched at the top of the opposite shelving unit. Isma was slightly ashamed to admit that she had forgotten about _that_ reason: the Radiance’s power. She hadn’t personally experienced those tainted Dreams, even before the failed Sealing, so it must have slipped her mind. Even so…

“Staving off sleep for so long isn’t very sustainable, Ogrim,” she said quietly. “Sooner or later, you _will_ fall into slumber.”

“And I will fight it every step of the way if I must,” he responded, resolute. “The King and Queen have divided attentions, between our Voices and the spell. I do not wish to burden them with any distractions or delays should the Radiance make a move. At the very least, I can last until either task is finished.”

Who knew how long that would take? Isma knew the effects of sleep deprivation, she’d seen and felt them herself now and again, and they would not be forgiving in this time of unknowns. Perhaps she was being too naive, but the Radiance had yet to make a move and she doubted either monarch would allow her Light to seep past theirs, regardless of any distraction. Isma would hate to see the energetic White Defender start to wilt and fade, like a flower curling up in the heat, _especially_ when she could have tried to prevent it.

“Ogrim, I believe it would be more prudent to sleep now than later.” She thought for a moment. “Do you remember those reports Dryya read us? When the Infection first began?”

An embarrassed hum reached her. “I’m afraid I may have tuned them out.”

Isma quirked a smile before becoming serious again. “The first to show serious signs of ‘sleep madness,’ as it was first called, were the moths, because they were closest to the source, and the _miners_ at Crystal Peak. Not the other non-moth workers in the Resting Grounds. Not the residents of Dirtmouth. Do you know why?”

“Um...”

“Because the miners were close and worked long, hard hours and felt exhaustion more often than any other nearby group. When they slept, they were already so tired from their work that they couldn’t resist the Infection.” There was also a theory about the focusing effect of the crystals and other factors that the later reports detailed, but those weren’t important to her point. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Isma—”

“Don’t wait until you’re too tired to fight her off, if you’re concerned about the Old Light. We all need to be at our best in these times, especially if you need to toss her around a bit should she show up in your dreams—”

“Isma!” Ogrim laughed, amused by the thought. He had no delusions that he could win in a fight with a god, but he would certainly give it his best shot. “You have a point… but the Old Light is much closer now than she once was. Perhaps a bit weaker, from what our King has said, but still _here_. I fear she might forgo temptations and go straight to control in these circumstances.”

“She would have to Infect everyone at once to have a chance of succeeding, I think. Then she would have the Pale King and White Lady to contend with. I’m not sure what her end goal would be in that case.” Isma yawned. “Dear Ogrim, please sleep, at least for tonight. If you won’t, though, I ask that you keep your rolling quiet so that I can. Good night.”

Isma stood up, brushing dirt off her dress and armor and stretching a little. Taking a bit of lumafly bait from a small pouch attached to her lantern, she coaxed the luminous little insects back into the glass sphere. There was still light coming from the other three knight’s sections, as they seemed to be having a conversation, as well as a faint pale glow from within the King’s shelter, but neither source was particularly bright.

Mindful of her more acidic leaves, she took a sip of water and began to walk to her little alcove, using the lantern to light the way. It was nothing more than a shadowed spot under a large log, but it was comfortable enough.

Just as she was about to enter, she heard Ogrim’s voice once more, soft, “...I think you’ve convinced me, Isma. Though that’s usually how it goes, isn’t it?”

Isma sighed happily with a mixture of triumph and relief. “What can I say? I’m very good at what I do,” she teased.

“I can certainly agree with that,” he answered warmly.

“Aw, you flatter me, dear.” She ducked into the space under the log, settling herself in a little corner. “Rest with me, will you, Ogrim? We shall face whatever comes together, just as always.”

In another container, separated by distance and solid walls, her fellow knight burrowed down into a small chamber beneath the surface, a smile in his voice. “Of course, Isma. Just as always.”

* * *

 

Ze’mer kept up a steady rhythm as she swept a cleaning cloth along her greatnail. Over and over and over again she wiped the pure metal clean, from grip to tip and back again. The simple movement was calming, familiar, and sorely needed for her own peace of mind, lest she start pulling at her antennae until they permanently curved downwards. 

Worries swirled around her mind, kept at bay by the soothing motion. Worry for her lover, for her fellow knights, for the fates of all of those captured should things not go to plan… she was not often prone to rumination, but now there was all too much to think of.

And oh! When her thoughts turned to her love, of her gentle touch and fierce spirit, a blanket of calm would drape over her... only lasting for a moment before flashes of what may have befallen her in the wake of their capture turned the comforting feeling to a heavy weight on her heart, bringing her mind back to a tempest of unease.

“Hey, Ze’mer, Hegemol,” called Dryya, cutting through her thoughts and stilling her hand. 

“Yes, Dryya?” she answered at the same time Hegemol hummed, seemingly in the middle of eating something. 

The three-horned knight leaned back more comfortably against a rock, observing the blade of her nail. “What are your opinions on this ‘Tall Being?’”

Hegemol hummed again, swallowing before he replied, “First of all? I think that ‘Tall Being’ is a terrible name. Titan or Behemoth sounds a lot more fitting.”

“Perhaps it was to mirror ‘Higher Being?’” Dryya suggested.

“An interesting motive, but still a bad name,” he dismissed. “In any case, it seems friendly enough so far, barring how we came here and its strange appearance. Can’t say much more until we can truly talk to each other. How about you, Ze’mer?”

“No one has died among us. Che’ suppose that counts in its favor,” she said dully.

An uncomfortable silence reigned. They had all had the same thought at one point or another, though no one had said it aloud. “Yes…” Dryya murmured. “That is rather fortunate.” 

“The same likely cannot be said for those left behind, however,” Ze’mer continued, wiping her nail again, more harshly than before. “Quakes, cave-ins, flooding… how many were trapped? Injured?”

A flash of her lover’s face appeared in her mind, eyes empty and dull.

“ _Killed_?” she roared, whirling around and slashing a nearby log clean in two with her heavy nail.

Dryya and Hegemol kept silent; better to let it out than bottle it up, and these thoughts were anything but light. They’d offer to spar with her if there weren’t that blasted wall between them.

She stared for a moment at her nail, now half buried in the dirt. With a deep sigh, she pulled it out and sat back down, bringing out the cleaning cloth once more. “Ai… and for all we know, the Infection still spreads among the survivors and keeps her chained,” Ze’mer finished softly as she went to work on her blade again.

Her fellow knights shared a look. While everything she had said was a valid concern, they both knew the true source. Hegemol nodded over at Ze’mer. Dryya shook her head, but he simply raised his hands helplessly and repeated the motion. She gave a silent exaggerated sigh and stood up. 

There was a reason she was Fierce and Isma was Kind. Dryya wasn’t the best at comforting, but at least Ze’mer tolerated her attempts better than Hegemol’s humor.

Dryya approached the wall she shared with Ze’mer, beginning a drill with her nail to keep from standing awkwardly. After a few swipes, she said, “She is strong. I’m sure she’s alright.”

The deadly edge of Ze’mer’s greatnail caught the lumafly light. “Is that really a promise you can make, me’hon.”

“I didn’t say I promise,” she retorted. She slowed her movements from fast swipes to slow deliberate strikes. “Worrying excessively will do nothing but hinder you here. I know this must be hard for you, but there is nothing you can do.”

“Waaiii, if only che’ had stayed!” Ze’mer lamented with a thickening accent, letting go of her nail to pull at her antennae. “We were to meet after the Sealing, away from the prying eyes of her kin. What if meled’lover came to meet and…!” 

Dryya struck the wall between them with her nail, the loud thud startling Ze’mer out of another hopeless spiral. “From what you’ve told us of her, she is skilled and resourceful. Since none of us know the true state of Hallownest and its inhabitants at this time, perhaps it is best to think highly of her and believe in her ability to survive.”

Ze’mer slowly unclenched her fists from around her antennae. “Ai… perhaps... you are right…” It was those skills, along with her indomitable spirit, that had first drawn Ze’mer in after all.  It was clear that she still worried immensely, and likely would until she could see her beloved unharmed herself, but she would at least make an effort to not let those worries drag her down. 

Hegemol sensed an opening and attempted to lighten the mood a little, saying, “If she’s survived living under the Traitor Lord for this long, I’m sure a few tremors hardly even bothered her. He might not even be Infected anymore, what with the Old Light having relocated with us.”

Ze’mer’s antennae perked up as she and Dryya turned to face him. “That would be one good thing to come of this, if it were true,” the latter mused. “A shame we can’t verify it.”

The lilac knight canted her head towards the golden light shining from the top of the neighboring shelf, considering. Dryya caught the movement. “Do not even think of it, Ze’mer,” she warned.

“Who better to answer such questions?” 

Hegemol glanced between the two nervously. “Surely you don’t mean—”

“It would be treason!”

“We are not in Hallownest,” Ze’mer said resolutely. Before her friends could protest more vehemently— and before she could lose her nerve— she called out boldly, hoping silently that the White Lady would not take offense at the use of her gift, “Radiance! Che’ seek to ask something of you!”

Immediately, all three Great Knights felt a strange warmth surround them. There was no physical change in temperature, but they felt the shift all the same, as if they had thought very hard about the sensation of heat and now felt its phantom warmth prickling around their shells and between their thoughts. The heat receded just as quick as it appeared, followed by loud voice. “Why do you contact me, follower of the Pale Ones?” 

Dryya unconsciously tightened her grip on her nail and Hegemol reached out blindly for his mace. Ze’mer, however, focused all her attention on the Radiance, who had walked close enough to the edge of the shelf for her form to be clearly seen, haloed in burning light. “When you were captured and brought here with us, did you bring the Infection with you? Is Hallownest free from that blight?”

A distant tilt of the head. Silence stretched for a minute or two before the God of Dreams answered, “As I have explained before, the Infection was an unintended side effect of trying to be remembered. Without my Light to fuel it, any remaining strains have likely either stalled in their growth or withered and died by this time.”

Dryya saw Ze’mer slump slightly in relief from the corner of her eye. She was surprised that an answer had come so easily, though she knew better than to trust the Old Light was being truthful. She opened her mouth to dismiss the conversation, now that Ze’mer had gotten her answer, only for her friend to continue. “How would… that affect the people? Those already Infected?”

The Radiance thought for a moment, watching the three warriors from above. They were too close to the pale lights for her to glean their names. The large one had hardly made a sound, simply switching focus whenever someone talked. The three-horned one held tightly to a nail, seeming to want to stop the speaker but unable to. Said speaker had not looked away from the moth once, intent on getting answers. She could appreciate the lanky bug’s determination, if anything. It played well to her plans of making the captives less likely to lock her away at the first opportunity.

Answering questions as truthfully as she dared was part of it. Without a strong tether to Hallownest, with her connection to her Moths— if any had survived, a bitter part of her murmured— having been severed by her separation, or much of a conscious understanding of what her Light had been distorted into, she could only speculate. “That would depend on the progress of their Infection. Those in the earlier stages should be fine, perhaps ill for a time as the foreign intrusion dies. Those whose bodies have been entirely consumed will perish, unable to function without it.”

The Knights flinched at that dry declaration. No use coating her answers in honey. What’s done was done.

“And those who willingly embraced it?” the purple bug pressed.

The Radiance startled minutely. Had her Moths…? She hadn’t been aware of who fell to the Infection or how, forgotten as she was. In its volatile state, not even those who accepted it would be unharmed, but there likely would be some measure of safety. “As long as their bodies had not been irreparably damaged, they should live. Sickness of a different sort would take hold, as the Infection dies, but their mind should be intact.”

“But you’re not sure, are you, _Mothra_ ,” murmured the three-horned knight, voice dry and low. Her compatriots turned to stare at her in disbelief. She startled at their attention and seemed to come back to herself, perhaps realizing she had spoken aloud.

It took all of the Radiance’s willpower not to send the full force of her Light down at them at the slight; she couldn’t afford to exhaust herself with such a show, not yet being at her full strength. As it was, she was sure they could feel the searing heat from the connection, if their sudden pained winces were any indication. It wasn’t so much the name that bothered her, but the blasphemous disrespect that coated it. “Of course I cannot say for sure,” the Radiance snapped, wings hiked up defensively and light flaring to near-blinding levels.

Seeing the wary reactions of the bugs below her, as well as similar glances from other oblivious captives, she took a breath to force herself to relax and deliberately softened her voice and light. They belonged under the Wyrm and Root, some irreverence should be expected, she told herself. “This entire situation is entirely unprecedented. Without even a sliver of a hold in that land, its state is beyond my reach. I doubt the Wyrm or Root are any better.

“And you would do best to not snap at me again,” she addressed the three-horned one, a sharp edge in her voice. “I may be willing to overlook it for now, but that will not always be the case.” To the tall purple bug, she nodded and tried for an amiable tone, “I hope these answers have satisfied you, Pale Knight.”

Before the Radiance could break the connection, the addressee said, “My name is Ze’mer.” She gestured to her companions and they also spoke up, though with far more hesitance, for Hegemol, and mistrust, for Dryya. The deity nodded to each of them and cut the connection.

With that, the Radiance turned away from the Wyrm’s warriors, burrowing back down into a large piece of cloth that she had bunched into a makeshift nest. It was rough and dusty, vastly inferior to the soft blankets and pillows of her Moths, but it was much more comfortable than hard glass or cold metal. 

They were getting bolder, she thought as she curled her wings around herself. Perhaps this was good. With no allies and no shortage of enemies, it was in her best interest to garner some good will, though maybe it wouldn’t be as easy as she had predicted. At least she was able to stay truthful, even if they didn’t believe her; given the Infection stemmed from her, she should be able to feel it if it still spread. Even if the distance was too great to feel, the plague should fade without her Light.

The Root had likely noticed her knight’s use of her power, but no one had yet received a reprimand. She seemed more amenable to the Radiance’s presence than her husband, but the moth deity could tell she was running herself ragged trying to keep the order and… deal with something that caused her great grief, if the Radiance was reading her correctly.

Oh well. Her light dimmed slightly as she settled down. It did not concern her. It would be a better use of her time to continue fixing up the Dream Realm from the damage caused when she was forgotten than to speculate. 

 

* * *

 

As the golden light at the top of the opposite shelf dimmed, the pale light within one of the containers continued to glow and pulse from within the Pale King’s makeshift workshop. His outer robe had been placed over the doorway, sealing most of it within.

The walls inside were covered in carved marks, faintly glowing with Soul remnants. One wall was dedicated to etheric calculations and notes, the latest of which were beginning to mix with the neighboring wall containing relevant runes and their potential interactions. Another had a makeshift table, made by fashioning two thin pieces of wood into dowels, carving a large slab out of the imitation rock, impaling the dowels within the wall at an appropriate height, and resting the slab on top.

It was fortunate that the walls were softer than actual rock, the Pale King mused. His razor sharp blades cut easily through it with little force.

He was currently wielding a small summoned knife, using it to carve into one of the actual stones he had found littered around his enclosure. After each mark, he would pulse Soul into the gouge, causing it to shine briefly with white light before fading. Carving the last line into the rock and filling it with a bit of Soul, the light spread to the rest of the runes, quickly stabilizing as a soft and steady glow from within.

With a sigh of exhaustion, the Pale King placed the stone with the other four he had completed, dissipating his blade at the same time. Without enough ambient Soul in the air to fully fill his reserves, hopefully these crude vessels would fill on their own and provide some assistance with the spell. He needed to save as much of his own power for himself, he grumbled in his thoughts, trying not to focus on his still-trembling hands. 

Instead, he turned to his calculations, checking his work for the nth time. He stretched his wings out behind him to release some of the tension there, his weakened Light flaring at the motion. 

There were too many unknowns. Magic had some effect on the Tall Being, given how the glamour was still holding for the most part, but whether its pain was caused only by the dissonance between its mind and eyes or by some sort of sensitivity to Soul in general couldn’t be verified. He theorized that the latter explanation may be related to the nearly Soul-dry air, which was especially so when in the Tall Being’s presence, but what exactly the connection was eluded him.

The Pale King conjured another small blade of light to etch another note in the wall. He had never needed to keep actual knives on his person— what with his personal Kingsmould guard, Great Knights, spell-casting prowess, and his own claws providing ample protection— but now he wished he had stowed one in his robe before leaving the Palace. The knife was the most he could do with his reserves so low, and as much as he wanted to keep any expenditure of energy towards his own healing and the spell, he had less control over his thin claws than the thicker blade.

Releasing the knife again, he folded his hands together to steady them and leaned forward, resting his forehead and part of his crown against the chilled wall. 

The bulk of the strain from the Sealing had concentrated in his hands, given he had used them to pull apart the unraveling spell. The spiked tips of his mask, being another of his usual conduits like his mouth had as a Wyrm, had also sustained some damage, resulting in some hairline cracks that had healed already and a dull headache that hadn’t left. 

What a mess. 

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong had gone wrong. He was a higher being, dammit, still a powerful Wyrm in spirit if not in body and king to an entire civilization… and here he was, stuck in a box with not enough Soul to heal his own wounds, let alone help the others. He thumped his head against the wall. Pathetic.

“Hello, my Wyrm.”

The Pale King jumped away from the wall with a short yelp, nearly tripping over his own tail before he recognized the voice as belonging to his Root. He had been so… preoccupied that he hadn’t even felt the connection.

Soft laughter accompanied the feeling of a secure embrace. He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed; as two higher beings joined together, they kept no judgements for little unguarded moments. He leaned into the mental touch, restraining a disappointed whine when it disappeared soon after. 

He wouldn’t push the matter of the limited contact between them. The White Lady had been slowly moving away from him ever since the Vessels had started hatching. Each one had a small piece of their Light, and it was never easy for either of them when they fell and those pieces were consumed by the Void. 

It only became more pronounced when the Pure Vessel was found. She stayed for a long while, watching them grow and learn. At one point, the Pale King had needed to approach her, remind her not to coddle the unfeeling Vessel, that they were a _tool_ , not a child. He promised that once the Radiance had been Sealed away, they could try again, for an heir this time, a child of their Lights alone.

He hardly saw her at all after that.

He _understood_ why she had distanced herself— there were times he’d had to remind _himself_ that the Vessel was empty, like a Kingsmould but more bug-shaped— but… there was no cost too great for the sake of his kingdom, and everything had been going just fine before the disastrous Sealing. Now that it had failed and the Radiance was free… what would be done with the Pure Vessel? Perhaps when they were back in Hallownest, another Sealing could be attempted, but it seemed more and more unlikely to work now, the more he thought of it. The Pale King was loathe to simply lock it away or dispose of it, what with all the training and resources poured into its upbringing. He would like to keep it close… perhaps a place among his Great Knights? It was a formidable fighter—

“You are thinking so loud, I can nearly hear it,” Root said, startling him out of his train of thought. “Have you eaten?”

It was an exchange they often had when he lost track of time working on projects in his workshop. It usually ended with him being picked up and carried bodily out to take a break as long as nothing was going to explode, but that wouldn’t be the case now.

“I must keep preparing the spell,” the Pale King said, clearing the table so he could begin sketching diagrams for the casting. “We do not know how much time there is before we are all separated, sold, or worse.”

“A small break will not be the difference between life and death.”

“With all these unknowns, I am not so sure.”

“You no longer have the metabolism of a Wyrm, dear.”

As if he needed the reminder. He used to be able to go weeks, months even, on a single meal. “I am no mortal bug, either, same as you. I will rest when everyone is freed and safe, with perhaps the exception of the Radiance.”

When the White Lady’s voice did not return, the Pale King returned to his sketching, his wings drooping slightly. He knew she still loved him, just as he loved her, through the Kingsoul they shared, but their distance chafed. She had been planning on an extended stay in her Gardens with Dryya after the Sealing; how long would it have been before she came back…?

“Wyrm, starving yourself isn’t going to help anyone. Go sit down and eat something,” commanded a gruff voice. Ah. Just getting reinforcements, then.

“Herrah, I am a god. I do not need to eat or rest as often as you,” he retorted. Regardless of his words, he was starting to get tired of standing for so long and his headache was mounting. Knowing no one was watching, he tested his weight on the table and sat on the edge, curling his tail around him and folding his wings as he made some notes.

“Oh, I _know_ ,” the Beast said, probably wearing a sharp grin beneath her mask, “but the last thing we need is a repeat of the Visit, don’t we?”

The Pale King stiffened. 

“‘The Visit?’” Monomon chimed in. “Do _tell_ , sister.”

“I am also quite curious,” came Lurien, respectful but all too ready for some gossip.

Terra help him. 

To the Wyrm’s complete and utter relief, Herrah merely huffed and said, “What’s the use of blackmail if I simply told you all without reason? Your dear king knows _exactly_ what I’m talking about.”

He did, and he never wanted it to happen again. Thank Terra only the Beast and her spawn had witnessed it, but she _loved_ to bring it up at times like this.

With a deep sigh, knowing despite any animosity between their kingdoms she and the rest of his inner circle simply cared about his well-being even if it _wasn’t necessary_ , he hopped off the table and dismissed his blade. “Fine,” he drawled, stretching out his tired limbs and composing himself before brushing past his makeshift doorway curtain.

“Good,” Herrah said, triumphant, while Monomon and Lurien, and to a lesser extent the White Lady, continued pestering her for details. 

He dimmed his light as he walked towards the food tray, though he didn’t bother putting on his outer cloak. Anyone who could see him was either on this shelf and therefore trusted, hiding, or the Radiance, and he couldn’t care less about her opinion. 

There was a bit of an assortment on the tray the Tall Being had provided, likely out of ignorance of what they usually ate. The Pale King tore off part of a good-smelling leaf and wrapped a few pieces of fruit in it to carry back to his workshop. He looked up and into the Pure Vessel’s container, panicking for a short moment before remembering that he had sent it to look after Hornet and… the other one. He instead met the eyes of Monomon’s personal assistant, who bowed respectfully before ducking out of sight.

The Hollow Knight had verified that the unknown bug wasn’t a threat, but since they could not speak he didn’t know much more than that. Their container was blocked from view and Hornet had simply said they were shy when he questioned her. 

They almost felt like Void, but that was impossible since the Abyss had been sealed. Besides, he normally felt Void as an absence of Soul. With how dry the atmosphere was, it could just as easily be him confusing their aura for the Vessel’s, since they did have Soul just as it did.

“Is he eating yet, Lurien?” Herrah’s words startled the Pale King out of his thoughts. Maybe a short nap was in order, if this was going to keep happening. He turned away and walked back towards his workshop. He caught the Watcher’s gaze from where he was leaning against a log. The Wyrm took out a piece of fruit and stuck it in his mouth, keeping his mandibles out of sight.

“Yes,” Lurien answered, followed by mock cheering from the other Dreamers. He tilted his head to the side, silently asking whether his king was alright. The Pale King nodded and lifted another piece of food in a toast before going back inside.

Well, if his closest confidants weren’t going to let him be for a while yet, he might as well enjoy himself. “Really, Monomon, you poke fun at my sleeping habits, but you aren’t much better, if I recall,” he cut in, prompting a wave of indignation from the Teacher and various degrees of laughter from the White Lady, the Beast, and the Watcher. 

Perhaps he could ask for their opinions on his work so far. The Weavers were skilled in spellwork, and both Lurien and Monomon had studied much of the art in preparation for the Sealing. He usually disdained asking for help, but his time among his subjects had loosened that isolation instinct.

He could only hope that his kingdom would still be standing by the time they returned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait; the fall semester started and I’m still figuring out how to balance the workload. This chapter is the longest so far, to make up for it. I want to get to a certain point before the holidays, so it lines up, but I’m not sure how feasible it’s going to be.  
> I know it’s slow going, but I wanted to get into a majority of the character’s heads before moving on. Ze’mer was particularly difficult, but hopefully it’ll get better with practice. On the subject of “The Visit,” perhaps I’ll write something short on it, but you’re welcome to speculate!  
> For the next chapter, I wanted to get a vote: a long interlude with a few POVs set in Hallownest, or the next continuation with Denise making some important revelations? You decide!  
> Just as always, thanks for reading!


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